


Rendezvous

by Loopstagirl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 72,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loopstagirl/pseuds/Loopstagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has a mission: bring the sorcerer back to Camelot.</p><p>Merlin also has a mission: take the Prince of Camelot hostage.  </p><p>One night in a tavern changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners.
> 
> So, time for another long one. I am still writing, but hopefully am far enough ahead that I should be able to keep the updates pretty steady. I really hope you like it!

Rain lashed around him and Arthur shivered, drawing his cloak closer to his trembling body. He knew it would make no difference; he was already soaked through and his cloak was too wet to keep him warm.  It wasn’t his usual cloak, but a forest green one in the hope a disguise would keep him safe. But as the prince of Camelot brushed his sodden hair from his eyes and squinted through the downpour, he didn’t feel very safe. Not when he considered the way the journey had gone so far.

He touched his heels to his mount, then squeezed his knees when the stubborn animal refused to move. Arthur couldn’t blame him; they had ridden long and hard and the horse was as exhausted as he was. But Arthur knew they had to be close to the inn by now and he was determined to find it before stopping. A night out in these sorts of elements would kill him.

Finally moving again, he kept his neck bowed to try and conserve a little warmth. It wasn’t as if he could see where he was going anyway and he trusted his horse to keep him safe. It had so far today, which was more than could be said for the rest of the men. Arthur shivered again and this time it wasn’t entirely to do with the cold. Their mission had been riddled with misfortune and the current storm made Arthur believe he should have turned around and gone home.

Then again, there was no way home. His horse leaping for safety was the only reason the collapsing bridge hadn’t plunged him into the river and swept him away. He had made it to the far side and the knights still with him had been left stranded on the far bank. Arthur had ordered them to find the others and go home, that he would complete the mission on his own. But the river had been raging and he had no idea if they had heard him or not. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Leon had heard his orders - and then pretended not to as he scouted for another bridge.

The thought made Arthur smile, which given his current predicament was a big deal. The grin quickly slipped as he followed the narrow trail through the woods, changing direction and causing the rain to slip down his collar. For a second, as he turned, Arthur thought he saw a flash of red in the woods and turned eagerly. His numb fingers barely gripped the reins tight enough to stop him from sliding off the horse at the sudden movement, but there was nothing there. Arthur realised that anyone wearing red wouldn’t necessarily be a friend. The river had breached the boundary and he was no longer in his own land. After all, even he wasn’t in red.

Arthur brushed the hair from his eyes again, drawing on a hidden reserve of energy and sat up straighter. He didn’t need to be worried about being recognised for the prince of Camelot now; soaked, shivering and on his own. The quality of his clothes betrayed his wealth, but they were so wet that no one would be able to tell anyway.

He didn’t let himself slouch again though. Just because the river, a rock-fall, the snakes and everything else Arthur had forgotten about had slowly separated him from his men didn’t mean he was going to lose his pride and dignity. He still had a mission to carry out and he knew his father’s praise when he returned with the sorcerer would make up for it. At least, that was what he told himself: Arthur was well aware it was getting harder and harder to keep the king happy. That was why he was out here, on the wrong side of the border, chasing a rumour in the first place.

Getting out of the castle had been the only way Arthur could save his sanity. He knew by the time he returned, Morgana would have convinced the king – again – there was no point marrying her off to a noble lord for she would only make his life a living hell and it was more likely to weaken an alliance than strengthen it. Arthur wished he had her courage, for he knew it was only twisting events that meant he didn’t have a princess of his own waiting back in Camelot for him.

The thought made him smile. He was more likely to break alliances when his father tried to marry him off, for it wouldn’t take long for his bride to realise he had absolutely no intention of bedding her other than when his duty dictates. There were other people Arthur would rather have in his bed. His knights, the stable-boys and the kitchen lads for one thing. His father had no idea – Arthur hoped.

His mind had finally settled on thoughts that warmed his body and Arthur managed to forget about the rain as he pictured the way the stable boy had looked up at him when Arthur had him on his back and parted his legs. Lost in a day-dream, Arthur didn’t notice the rain and the fading light as he let himself be swept up in happier memories than the failure of this expedition.

When his horse suddenly tossed his head again and stopped, pawing the ground nervously, Arthur was brought back to reality with a jolt. It was almost dark and his hand instinctively went to his sword. Drawing it, Arthur stared around carefully, looking for a hint of what could be wrong. He hoped it was nothing and the horse was on edge from being so tired. Arthur knew full well that if it came to a fight – even one on one – he would have trouble defending himself in his current state.

“Easy,” Arthur murmured, resting his hand against his horse’s neck for a moment. There was no point in dismounting – he was better trying to outrun his pursuers than fight given his current state. He just wasn’t sure if his horse would be able to outstrip pursuers if they were mounted.

He didn’t have to wait long. With a wild cry, five men suddenly burst from the trees. They were all brandishing weapons of some sort and war cries left their lips as they tore through the undergrowth towards Arthur. By the looks of them, they were normal bandits, and it gave Arthur hope he was near the inn. Why else would they waylay a road unless it led somewhere?

The first reached him before he could flee and Arthur brought his sword sharply down. The man jumped back out of the way but Arthur’s second slash caught him across the ribs. It wasn’t deep enough to be a death wound but Arthur knew that man wouldn’t be troubling him again. As he straightened up, he realised he had made the other men even more bloodthirsty.

Arthur knew there was no way of fighting his way out. He dug his heels in and the horse reared up, forcing the men to stay back before Arthur took off. He stayed in the direction he had been traveling, knowing he had more chance of reaching safety and help. Never before had Arthur Pendragon asked for help, but now… he didn’t have a choice.

The men followed him, although how they were going to outstrip a fleeing horse, Arthur had no idea. Then he found out.

A barrier had been placed across the road, thorny branches stopping the horse in its tracks. He dug his hooves in, skidding to a stop. But Arthur had been looking back over his shoulder to check the pursuit and was not prepared for the sudden stop. His limp hold on the reins wasn’t enough and he was thrown from the saddle before he knew what happened. His sword fell from his grip mid-flight and Arthur slammed into the ground, all the air driven from his lungs.

He could only lie there, desperately holding onto consciousness as he heard the horse moving in distress and the sounds of the men running closer. He placed his palms on the ground, determined to rise. But his battered body had had enough – enough of being abused for one day and enough of this whole cursed expedition. Arthur only just straightened his arms before the entire world spun and he collapsed back down to the ground again.

Feet entered his vision as he tried to remain awake. His hand weakly moved towards his leg, reaching for the dagger he kept there. But someone saw his movement and removed the weapon, tossing it away. A cold laugh met Arthur’s ears and he knew he couldn’t fight back. So instead, he gave in and lost consciousness.

MMM

Merlin didn’t know what made him do it. He supposed it was because he was in such a good mood. It was rare that their plans actually worked, so knowing that everything was on track had pleased him. More importantly, he knew it would please Nimueh and that would mean his mistress wouldn’t take it out on him for once. If that wasn’t enough to put someone in a good mood, Merlin didn’t know what was.

He heard the commotion before he saw it, but his magic prickled under his skin and he knew someone was in trouble. Considering he had spent the entire day putting people in danger – not deliberately, but it was luck more than judgement no one stepped forward at the wrong moment – Merlin figured it was time to help someone out for a change.

He moved towards the sound, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. It didn’t surprise him no one else moved despite the inn being full. No one would risk these forests alone and Merlin knew he would be the same if he didn’t know his magic would stop anything from happening to him. He saw the horse first, a magnificent creature that took Merlin’s breath away for a moment. Scrambling over the logs and ignoring the thorns tearing at his clothes, he rested a hand on the animal’s nose. Gold flooded his eyes and the horse calmed, nuzzling into him. Knowing it would now stay where it was, Merlin moved forward to try and find the owner.

He didn’t have far too look. The thugs were dragging someone back into the depths of the forest and Merlin figured their victim was unconscious giving his lack of response and the way his head was lolling. Merlin stepped forward, allowing the magic to fill him up.

“That’s far enough, lads,” he called. The men stopped and before Merlin could blink, they had dropped their prize and all drawn knives.

“This is none of your business, boy.” One of the men stepped towards him, an ugly sneer on his face. “Be on your way before we decide this whelp can’t give us the gold we want.”

“I’d say he can’t give you anything considering he’s out cold.” Merlin kept his voice friendly, but stepped forward rather than back. “Now back off.”

“Or what?”

Knowing they weren’t going to back away – and if he was honest, Merlin wouldn’t run from him either, a scrawny village boy with no weapon – he let the gold flood his eyes and flames flicker from his hand. The man swallowed and looked back at his companion.

“Leave before I make you,” Merlin said, his voice ringing with power. The men hesitated, then scrambled for the trees. Merlin sighed and let the magic drain away. He would have never used a fireball against them – he never killed if he could help it. But the threat of one was often enough to scare people away and prevented him from having to hurt them at all.

Once he was sure the men were gone and weren’t doubling around behind him – there was no Nimueh to get him out of trouble this time – Merlin approached the fallen man. He stood over him and looked down. There was something familiar about the green of the cloak he was wearing, but Merlin knew he himself had one a similar colour. It was practical for travelling through the forest and Merlin decided he was just being paranoid. The quality of the man’s clothes was high, but Merlin knew that didn’t tell him much. Some nobles dressed their servants well, some used magic to improve their own garb.

He nudged the man gently with his toe. When he didn’t stir, Merlin sighed. He bent down behind the fallen figure and hooked his hands under the man’s shoulders. Hauling him upright, Merlin nearly collapsed under the weight. The man was solid muscle and he weighed a tonne. Merlin grimaced, then used magic to lighten his load as he started pulling the man back towards what he could only assume was his own horse. Still no one came to help and Merlin had to use magic again to be able to hoist the man over the animal. After that though, it was a simple matter of leading the horse to the inn.

Merlin already had a room, so he passed the reins to the stable boy and dragged the still figure inside. Someone finally came to his assistance and helped get the man up the stairs, but immediately left when he was sprawled across Merlin’s bed. The warlock hid a smirk as he poured some water into a bowl and found a cloth. He had come to the inn to relax, knowing he was ahead of schedule for the next part of the plan. He had intended to have a man in his bed before the night was over, but this was hardly how he pictured it.

Soaking the cloth, he dabbed the man’s forehead and neck. Merlin couldn’t explain it, but he felt like he needed to protect this man. The feeling didn’t last very long when his eyes started to open.

For a moment, he just looked around with no comprehension of where he was. The man blinked at Merlin, who smiled reassuringly. At least, he intended it to be reassuring but it seemed to have the opposite effect as the man gripped his wrist tightly, forcing it back.

“Who are you? Where am I? What are you doing?” His voice was harsh, a tone that demanded answers. Merlin wrenched his hand free before his wrist was broken.

“I believe I saved your life,” he said curtly. Rising, Merlin put the cloth and bowl to one side. When he looked back, the man was looking at him incredulously.

“You?” Disbelief lines his tone and Merlin arched an eyebrow.

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“Is that so?” Merlin could feel the stranger’s gaze roaming his body and although Merlin could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, he met the man’s stare challengingly. To his delight, the stranger was the first to look away, an obvious blush to his face. The colour drove away the paleness and Merlin realised once he dried off and stopped looking like a drowned rat, he would be quite attractive.

The silence stretched between them for a few moments, then the man started to sit up.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m assuming this isn’t my room.”

“No, it’s mine. But you’re weak, you must rest.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” the man echoed and Merlin shot him a scathing look.

“That’s what I get for trying to keep you alive.”

The man didn’t answer. When Merlin looked at him, he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck sheepishly and grimaced a small smile when he met Merlin’s gaze.

“I guess I should say thank you,” the man muttered. Merlin nodded.

“I guess you should.” But his curiosity got the better of him and Merlin sat on the edge of the bed. “I saw your sword – it’s over there, by the way. But it’s good quality, you clearly know what you are doing. How did they get the better of you?”

“The barrier,” the man said. He finally sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “The damn horse threw me. You could say it’s been one of those days.”

Now Merlin looked at him properly, he did look exhausted and there was a slump of defeat to his shoulders. Merlin stood and held out his hand.

“Give me your cloak. I’ll dry it over the fire and get you some food. You should probably get some rest.”

“I don’t have a room. And knowing the way my luck has been today, I’ll be out in the stables because there won’t be any spare ones.”

Merlin tried not to wince. Now he was thinking about it, the inn did seem rather full. But the man still handed over his cloak and Merlin took care hanging it over the flames to dry.

“I’m Merlin,” he said. He knew Nimueh would disapprove, but he didn’t care. She wasn’t here.

“Arthur.”

Merlin frowned, looking at the cloak. Something was stirring in the back of his mind. But he turned to look at Arthur just as the man stretched, his shirt riding up to reveal a taut stomach and Merlin swallowed. Any suspicions fled his mind. Arthur saw him looking.

“Like what you see?” He said, a playful note entering his voice and a sparkle in his eyes. His hair was drying and it looked so fluffy and soft Merlin wanted to run his fingers through it. He tried to force himself to concentrate, but then Arthur stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To see if they have a room.”

As Arthur took a step towards the door, Merlin said the first thing that came into his head.

“You can stay here if you like.”

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, even when Arthur turned with a strange expression on his face that made heat and desire rush through Merlin’s body.

Something told him this evening wouldn’t be the relaxing night he had planned on.


	2. Chapter 2

A long moan escaped Merlin’s mouth as his head tilted back, giving Arthur better access to his throat. The prince wasted no time, tracing it with his tongue and smirking when he felt Merlin trembling against him. His hand was splayed across the base of Merlin’s back, holding him steady from where he was pressing him against the wall.

Arthur didn’t know how they had come to this. He went to great trouble back in Camelot to make sure his father never found out that his only heir preferred the company of men than he did the women that were constantly throwing themselves his way. But he had to make sure his partners wouldn’t betray him and every liaison took weeks of careful planning on Arthur’s part.

Here with Merlin though… Arthur had no idea what happened. One moment they were talking, sharing a bowl of stew and the next Merlin had pressed his lips against Arthur’s. Arthur knew he had frozen, but Merlin had never got the chance to draw back. The rest of the stew was forgotten and both men had lost their shirts in the last few moments.

Arthur ducked his head, sucking on the base of Merlin’s throat.

“Damn,” Merlin breathed. His hands landed on Arthur’s shoulders and he pushed him back. Arthur stumbled backwards, one eyebrow lifting as Merlin stalked towards him. Merlin’s hands threaded through his hair and Arthur realised it was now him groaning as Merlin backed them towards the bed. One hand left Arthur’s head, playing with the buckle on his belt. Arthur was about to suggest that Merlin used both hands – it was a stiff clasp on the best of days – when the buckle sprang open and Arthur felt his belt being drawn off and clever fingers working on his breeches.

Not wanting to be outdone – he _was_ the prince, even if Merlin didn’t know that – he quickly stripped Merlin. They both stood there, naked and panting, eyeing each other up and waiting for the first move. Arthur glanced towards the bed and swallowed. This could be the one time he could get what he really wanted and no one would find out. After how bad his day had been, he felt it was only right something finally went his way.

With a coy glance at Merlin, he turned his back and climbed onto the bed. He was trembling in anticipation, but stayed on his hands and knees as he glanced back at the other man.

“Come on then,” he muttered. He felt exposed like this, vulnerable in a way he had never experienced before. Whenever he had managed to get someone in his bed, he was always the one in charge. It was too much of a risk otherwise. But what he wanted, what he _really_ wanted, was for someone else to take control and put him in his place. For some reason, Arthur felt that the skinny man standing behind him would be able to do just that.

Even in the dim light of the room, Arthur saw Merlin’s eyes darken as he walked forward.

“Are you sure?” he asked, as if sensing Arthur’s nerves. Arthur rolled his eyes, spun around and yanked Merlin closer, his hand swiftly working Merlin’s rapidly growing erection. Merlin clutched at his shoulders before a low growl escaped his throat and he shoved Arthur back. Knowing that Merlin was giving in, Arthur made to roll over but Merlin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Before Arthur could react, Merlin was on the bed, straddling him.

His hands held Arthur’s wrists and he pulled them over up his head. Arthur bit his lip, his heart stuttering. This was it. Finally. Merlin glanced down at him.

“You really want it like this, don’t you?” There was no judgement in his voice though and Arthur nodded, his teeth worrying his lip. He didn’t want to be a prince anymore, he wanted someone else to make the decisions and let him just relax. He didn’t realise his desperation was showing in his eyes until both their belts were suddenly in Merlin’s hands. Arthur had thought they were out of reach, but he knew he must have been mistaken for there was no denying the feeling of worn leather wrapping around his hands and tying them to the headboard.

Arthur had never been so hard and he bucked up. Merlin grinned.

“I was going to ask if you were alright, but that answers that.” He shimmied back until he was no longer over Arthur. Arthur didn’t see what he reached for, but Merlin was soon dripping oil over his fingers. Arthur groaned out loud, surprised by his own reaction as Merlin slowly began opening him up.

It didn’t take long until Arthur was begging for more. He didn’t care anymore. If he was giving up his title for this night only, if this was going to be the only chance he would ever feel another man inside him, then he fully intended to enjoy every moment. He could see how his reactions were affecting Merlin and the other man was shaking as much as Arthur when he finally lined up properly.

Arthur’s head flew back with a thunk as Merlin pushed inside and he instantly snapped his hips, meeting Merlin thrust for thrust.

“Easy,” Merlin breathed, running a hand over Arthur’s chest and slowing down. His hands twisting in the restraints, Arthur tried to get Merlin to go faster. But Merlin ignored him and Arthur realised this was what it meant to give up control completely. He relaxed into the rhythm and Merlin rewarded him by twisting his hips in such a way that Arthur yelled, his toes curling as he tried to control himself. Merlin chuckled and Arthur wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him in deeper in revenge.

Merlin gasped and Arthur smirked, leaning up to bite at his lips. Even though he was bound, Arthur was far from helpless. Merlin’s eyes went impossibly dark and he shoved Arthur back. At the angle he was at, Arthur had no choice but to fall backwards. He smirked up at Merlin and Merlin shook his head.

“You asked for it,” he muttered. He lifted Arthur’s leg until it was balancing over his shoulder, placed both hands on the pillow next to Arthur’s head and pounded into him.

It hurt a little, but Arthur could barely breathe over how good it felt. This was everything he had ever wanted and didn’t think he would get the chance to experience. He tilted his head back, sounds coming from him that he didn’t realise were possible to make. Merlin somehow managed to drag it out, keeping Arthur teetering on the edge before finally, he slammed in one last time and Arthur jerked and shuddered to completion, feeling Merlin pulsing within him.

The other man drew out slowly, stealing Arthur’s whimper with a kiss even as he untied his hands. Merlin stood up, letting Arthur’s leg drop, but Arthur snagged at his wrist, stopping him from walking away. Merlin looked down at him, one eyebrow arched in question and Arthur shrugged.

“It is your bed, isn’t it?”

Merlin grinned, dropping the belts on the floor and clambering back onto the bed. He pushed Arthur’s hair away from his sweaty forehead and smiled.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t normally get to be on the giving end,” Merlin murmured, blushing as he refused to meet Arthur’s eyes. Arthur put a finger under Merlin’s chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze.

“Likewise,” he said honestly. Merlin looked confused and Arthur knew why. Those on top tended to dictate (at least, in his experience) and yet he had never asked his partner’s to swap. Merlin had no idea the real reason was because of who Arthur was.

“You mean to say… you’d never..?”

Arthur shook his head with a smile, drawing Merlin closer to him. “It was perfect.”

He felt Merlin smile against his skin, tracing patterns across his chest. For the first time in hours, Arthur thought about his men. They were all supposed to be here, recuperating after a hard day’s riding. Instead, they were scattered around the forest and Arthur was here alone. As Merlin wriggled to get more comfortable, Arthur couldn’t bring it in himself to regret what the day had brought. Something told him that meeting Merlin was a far better outcome than sitting on his own, surrounded by those who were loyal, but barely even friends.

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Stop thinking and go to sleep.”

Arthur chuckled, and when he felt Merlin laughing against him, it turned into a full laugh. Merlin swotted at him but Arthur caught his wrist easily and wriggled down until he could make himself more comfortable. As Merlin’s head came to a stop on his chest and Arthur felt his arm wrap around the slender man, he did exactly what Merlin had just suggested.

It was the best night sleep he had had for weeks.

MMM

Merlin rose when it was still dark. He stifled a yawn and tried not to curse out loud when he stubbed his toe on the bedframe. He wasn’t used to anything solid there, his bed mat back at camp never gave him these sorts of problems. He glared at the bed, resisting the urge to turn it into something squash-able.

But then he caught sight of Arthur and his anger disappeared. With a fond smile, Merlin found his clothes and pulled them on. That had hardly been the night that he had been expecting, but it put him in a good mood. The whole previous day had been successful and he knew his mistress couldn’t complain about his performance. Merlin stifled a laugh: Arthur wouldn’t be complaining about his performance either.

He hoped the other man forgave him for slipping out before dawn. He secretly hoped that if he came to this place again, Arthur might also happen to be passing through, but Merlin doubted it. He was only this far south because of his mission, venturing this close to the border with Camelot was generally a no-no for anyone with magic.

Letting himself silently out of the room, Merlin tiptoed down the stairs, holding his breath when he slipped the last few and landed with a thud. Rubbing his jarred ankle, he woke the innkeeper and paid for the room. It was the least he could do for Arthur after leaving him like this. Then again, Merlin mused as he let himself out into the cold morning air, what else would the man expect? They had met in an inn (well, technically outside it, but Arthur wasn’t conscious then so it didn’t count!) and spent one night together. Merlin hadn’t promised him anything.

Telling himself that didn’t help though and Merlin felt his good mood evaporating. He had had fun, which was more than could be said every time Mordred badgered him to sleep with him. Merlin always agreed as there was no one else and he had needs, but this had been different.

Pulling his cloak further around himself, Merlin scowled as he disappeared into the forest. Dawn was just brushing the horizon, but the trees stopped any light from filtering through. After tripping three times, Merlin checked no one else was nearby and summoned a light. He let it float just in front of him, lighting the path ahead as he ploughed further into the depths of the forest. He hoped he was going the right way.

The light felt like having a companion along and Merlin found himself telling the glowing orb everything that had happened the night before. Then he rolled his eyes and wondered what his life was coming to: he was talking to a floating light that he himself had conjured. Merlin shook his head and let the light fade away, trusting that enough sunlight would now light his way. He was just grateful the rain from the day before had stopped.

Hearing the sound of a stream close by, Merlin smiled in relief and hurried towards the water source. He crouched next to it and slated his thirst. Then he glanced around and when he was once again satisfied that no one was around, he breathed a spell over the water as he passed his hand over the surface. For a second, nothing happened. Then the water darkened and when it cleared, Nimueh was staring back at him.

“Mistress,” Merlin muttered, dipping his head a little. He hated deferring to her in such a way, but he didn’t have a choice. Without her, he would have died years ago. Without her, he would have never learnt what he was capable of.

“You never checked in yesterday.” Nimueh’s reprimand was sharp and Merlin winced. He _knew_ there was something he had been forgetting to do, but Arthur had distracted him.

“I didn’t have the chance,” he lied. “There were too many people around, I couldn’t risk word of my magic escaping too soon.”

To his delight, Nimueh nodded. While magic wasn’t illegal this side of the border, the whole point was for the rumours to draw the prince further away from the border. It would all be for nothing if the prince started investigating at the inn.

“You distracted the knights?”

Merlin smirked as he nodded. He told her about how he had spooked the horses, collapsed a bridge while making sure the prince was the only one close enough to make it across, caused the rock fall…

“You didn’t hurt them?”

“No,” Merlin said quickly. Disappointment flickered across Nimueh’s face.

“So be it, although it would have been easier to incapacitate them.”

“That was never the plan,” Merlin said angrily. This would hardly be the first time she had backed him into a corner and forced him to use his magic to hurt someone in order to survive. She had trusted him to sabotage the retinue from Camelot and that was what he had done. The knights couldn’t come after their prince, which meant Merlin’s job was done. He only wished he had seen the hooded royal – he wanted to know who to look out for when the next part of the plan was put in place.

“I shall have Mordred and Gilli come out to your position,” Nimueh said. Merlin forced himself to pay attention. “They will make sure you are not followed and that there is no sign of the knights. We must be far enough away before they realise the prince is missing, or it will all be for nothing.”

“What about me?”

“Continue to the rendezvous point and make sure you are seen. Small things only, I don’t need the villagers killing you before the prince gets there.” Her words were not reassuring and Merlin scowled.

“How do we even know he is coming?”

Nimueh frowned and muttered something under her breath. Merlin recognised it as a locator spell.

“He is less than a day behind you,” Nimueh said. “He will not risk displeasing his father once rumours of your power reach him. Now go, you need to actually be there for the rumours to spread.”

Without another word, the water cleared. Merlin released a long breath as he let the magic fade. It had sounded like such a good plan when he had been back at the camp. Taking the king’s son hostage was the only way Uther would listen to them and leave them alone. Now, Merlin wasn’t so sure. Out in the open on his own, he couldn’t help but think Uther was more likely to hunt them down for daring to touch his precious son.

Still, Merlin knew there was no choice. They had already started rumours to ensure that the prince crossed the border. It was too late, he had to see this through and hope that Nimueh knew what she was doing.

As he stood, he couldn’t help but feel like a pawn in a game he didn’t understand. She had looked like she genuinely wanted the knights to have been hurt in Merlin’s ambush. The warlock only hoped she stood by her promise that the prince wouldn’t be hurt, only restrained. That was the only reason Merlin had agreed to be bait, after all.

Despite the sun now covering the forest floor, Merlin lit another orb. He was lonely and he wasn’t too far from his destination now. If someone saw the light, it would just mean the rumours started a little earlier.

“Come on then,” he murmured to the orb, watching it float around his head. “We should be off.”

Now the air was warmer, Merlin threw back the hood to his cloak and loosened it. Then he gave in and took it off, stuffing it in his pack as he started to walk. This was it. Once he reached his destination, everything was in place to start earning the fear and respect of Camelot rather than the hatred that Uther had spread. And he would be the one to put the plan in motion and start the chain of events that would lead them to that moment.

Then Merlin managed to stumble over a root and hit his head on a tree as he fell to the floor. Luckily, it was only a light tap and he hadn’t even broken the skin. But as he sat up, he had to wonder if perhaps he was the right person after all.

The light bounced around his head, nudging him on the shoulder before dancing out of reach again. Merlin wasn’t surprised – his magic always had a way of animating things. But he glared up at it.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered. Placing his hands on the forest floor, Merlin clambered awkwardly to his feet and hoisted his pack into a better position on his back. As he set off once again, he had to wonder if he would have been better staying in bed with Arthur after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur stretched as his eyes opened. His hand drifted across the bed and he sighed when he felt the cold sheets. It was clear Merlin had been gone for some time. Arthur sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stifling a yawn. He wasn’t sure why he felt so disappointed. All of his conquests were for just one night. He only saw the same person twice if he paid for it. Being away from Camelot, denying who he was, was not going to change that and Merlin obviously had places to go.

Arthur dressed and ate breakfast in the common room of the inn. He kept his back pressed to the wall and his hand on his sword as he surveyed the rest of the occupants. There was nothing suspicious, but Arthur was fully aware he wasn’t in his own kingdom anymore and not everyone here was as pleasant as Merlin – the bandit attack wasn’t far from his mind.

He brooded over his meal and his good mood had vanished by the time he tried to pay and discovered Merlin had already done so. Finding his horse in the stables, he tipped the stable boy instead and lead the horse out. He looked at it sternly.

“Great job you did yesterday,” Arthur muttered sarcastically. The horse tossed its head and nudged him in the chest. Arthur rolled his eyes but mounted up. He couldn’t complain really. His horse and the quick reactions the steed had displayed the day before were the only reason Arthur had made it through all of the obstacles of the dramatic journey. The horse had been as exhausted as Arthur by the time bandits had spooked him. If it wasn’t for meeting Merlin and how his night had ended, Arthur would have turned back and said the whole trip was cursed and damn the consequences.

Touching his heels to his mount and trotting back into the forest, Arthur wished he had that sort of courage. Everyone knew his father had given him the mission of finding out if there was any truth in the rumour of a strong sorcerer. Arthur was fully aware that everyone also knew the king did not tolerate failure and Arthur would never dare risk it. He still had the marks from the last time he had failed and the king had decided a lashing would remind Arthur of his duty. As if he had any doubt – his duty was the only thing he lived and breathed. Morgana hated it.

His morbid thoughts took him through the forest and Arthur forced himself to let go of them. He was out on his own for the first time in weeks, the sun was shining and yesterday’s storm had well and truly passed over. The forest was beautiful and although Arthur knew he was potentially riding towards danger, it made his blood sing and he felt more alive than he had done for weeks. He flicked the reins, picking up speed and simply enjoying the feeling of the wind through his hair.

He stopped and ate a light lunch, but continued at a slower pace. He remembered studying this forest on the maps and knew that it wouldn’t be long before he started to stumble across the villages that scattered the edge of it. He needed to talk to people if he was to find the truth.

Arthur rode steadily for a few hours, but tension had settled back over him. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched, although every time he twisted around, there was nothing there. The sooner he was out of the forest, the better. Turning his horse away from the main track, Arthur angled towards where he was sure a village would be situated. It took a while to force his way through the dense undergrowth, but an hour and a few slashes of his sword later and Arthur could see smoke rising from a settlement.

Dismounting, he walked towards the village calmly, although his heart was pounding. This was it. With any luck, the villagers would have no idea what he was talking about and Arthur could be back at the inn by evening and over the border the day after. As soon as he reached the village though, he knew that would not be happening. People were huddling in small groups, talking excitedly about something.

Arthur tethered the horse to a tree at the edge of the village and walked in.

“What’s happened here?” He asked the first group he came across. His voice rang with authority and although they gave him a puzzled look, an older man stepped forward to explain.

“A young lad passed through here, not a few hours ago. There was an orb floating over him. Healed young Thomas and helped quench a fire with just a wave of his hand. Didn’t say anything, just carried on walking. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Magic,” Arthur spat, his hopes of an easy mission disappearing.

“Magic,” the man echoed, but his voice was one of awe. Arthur glanced at him and frowned. He stopped himself from saying anything though – these were not his father’s people and reminding them of the treachery of magic could result in the people turning on him. Arthur didn’t want to consider the consequences if anyone realised who he was.

“Which way did he go?” Arthur asked, forcing his voice to be calm. The man pointed to the east and Arthur nodded his thanks. He turned to fetch his horse, knowing if he rode hard, he might catch the sorcerer before he reached the next village and caused any more harm. But as he turned, the man boldly reached out and grabbed his arm.

“You aren’t planning him any harm, are you, boy?”

“I-,”

“He saved this whole village with his actions today. Don’t you dare harm him or you’ll have us to answer to.”

Arthur pulled free and hurried away, shaken. No one had ever defended a sorcerer before, not a complete stranger, anyway. Mothers screamed for their children, husbands for their wives. But the look on the man’s face… It was almost as if he didn’t care magic had been used, only that his village had benefitted from it. It went against everything Arthur had ever been taught and he didn’t know how to react.

He untied the horse and mounted up. He turned the creature’s head, guiding it around the outside of the village. He wanted to get away from here. For the first time since the initial accident had occurred, Arthur was glad he was on his own. He wasn’t wearing anything that would identify him as the prince of Camelot and having no knights made it significantly easier.

He broke into a gallop as soon as he was clear of the village and turned north. If the sorcerer was helping people - which Arthur doubted, there had to be a catch somewhere – then there was every chance that he was heading towards the next village. If Arthur hurried, he would be able to catch him.

He was mistaken though. The story in the next village was the same – a powerful young man had solved a few problems and moved on. Arthur managed to get a description; a young man with black hair and an easy grin. But the sorcerer eluded him, staying at least one village ahead all day.

Arthur was frustrated as the sun began to set. He wanted to be on his way back to Camelot with his prize by now. But as he dismounted to give his horse a rest, he realised how silent it was. There was no village around here and there didn’t seem to be one for several miles. Arthur felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he gripped his sword. The feeling of being watched had returned and the eyes were not friendly, that much he was sure about.

He secured the horse and slung a pack of his shoulder. He was glad Merlin hadn’t tried to look when he had rescued him; manacles and a long length of rope might have caused questions Arthur hadn’t prepared the answers too. But he drew his sword and started walking forward. Instinct told him he was almost there.

A floating blue light confirmed that suspicion. It was hovering around the base of a hill and if Arthur hadn’t been so suspicious, he would have said the light was playful as it whizzed around Arthur’s head a few times before shooting off up the hill. Arthur peered after it and even with the setting sun in his eyes, he could see a figure sitting cross-legged on the top of the hill.

Arthur smirked and started the climb. He wouldn’t be returning to Camelot empty handed this time.

MMM

Merlin took a deep breath as the light whisked over his head and vanished. It was the signal, the sign that he was about to be “arrested” by the prince of Camelot. Merlin knew he was powerful but he had heard about this prince and knew he was quick with a blade. Merlin hoped he was only going to be arrested and not run through on the spot.

He slowly climbed to his feet, shaking his legs to get the blood flowing again. The last thing he wanted was to face his nemesis hopping on one foot to get rid of the pins and needles. It was one of the reasons why he had chosen the hill; the ascent would slow his enemy down and give Merlin time to prepare. Not that he had anything do though, only let himself be led to the rendezvous point and then help subdue the prince. Merlin felt it was all going to be rather tedious.

Then he felt the prick of a sword in his back.

“Turn around,” a deep voice said. “Hands where I can see them. Try anything and I’ll run you through.”

Merlin believed him. He turned. Then he stumbled back a step, eyes wide as he tried to see past Arthur to find where the prince was. When no one else was revealed, he groaned. The look of complete shock and horror on Arthur’s face confirmed what Merlin was thinking: this had been completely screwed up.

“Merlin?” Arthur exclaimed. He looked totally astonished and Merlin couldn’t blame him. “You have to leave! There’s a dangerous sorcerer roaming this area, didn’t you see the light? Get out of here!”

Merlin would have laughed. Arthur was trying to save _him_ from a _sorcerer_. It confirmed what Nimueh had said; the prince had no idea what or who he was dealing with. For now the truth was standing in front of him, Merlin recognised the royal set to Arthur’s shoulders, the pride in his eyes and the stubbornness in his jaw. Arthur was the prince.

“Bloody hell,” Merlin moaned, running a hand through his hair. “Why are you, you?”

“Excuse me?” Arthur’s sword was hanging loosely at his side, his complete confusion overwhelming him. Merlin wondered if Arthur’s bewilderment was the only reason why he was still alive.

Merlin sighed, clicking his fingers. A small flame leapt from them, hovering between them. Arthur’s gazed followed it and pure, unadulterated fury sprung back into his expression.

“You,” he snarled, lifting the sword again. Merlin shrugged.

“Me. I’m your dangerous sorcerer. And you’re apparently my knight in shining armour, how’s that for irony?”

“Shut up,” Arthur spat. His hand was shaking in his anger. “I should run you through right now.”

“For having magic or for being the one to give you what you wanted last night?”

Arthur went purple with rage and Merlin knew he was right. Arthur had come out here to hunt a sorcerer and instead let himself be fucked by one. Merlin might have felt sorry for him if Arthur’s grip hadn’t strengthened on his sword again.

“Look…” Merlin had no idea what he was going to say. He stepped forward and the point of Arthur’s sword was suddenly resting against his chest.

“Give me one good reason.” Arthur’s voice was deadly quiet and Merlin knew he was serious. Arthur would rather kill him now than take him back to Camelot and risk others finding out what had happened. Merlin knew his situation had just become a lot more dangerous, and in a way Nimueh hadn’t prepared for. He was going to have to take drastic action to get back to the plan.

His hands shot out in front of him and Arthur only had time to take an intake of breath before he was blasted off his feet. Merlin cushioned his fall before he took off at a sprint. He couldn’t risk Arthur being hurt, after all. He ran as fast as he could, releasing Arthur’s horse and scaring it off with magic. By the time he caught his breath, Arthur was right behind him.

Merlin didn’t have the chance to pull the same trick twice. Arthur crashed into his back, sending them both crashing into the ground. Merlin spat out a mouthful of dirt and winced.

“Ow!”

Arthur’s knee was pressing into his back and Merlin gritted his teeth as his arm was bent around.

“I should kill you right now for your magic.”

Merlin thought fast. “Go ahead! Then your father will think you never found me and his precious heir would be humiliated in front of the entire court.”

He didn’t know if it would work. Somehow, the feeling of a manacle snapping around his wrist made him feel better. Arthur wouldn’t bind him if he was going to kill him. They were back on track.

Merlin struggled, but didn’t use magic as Arthur rolled him over and chained his hands in front of him. He then threaded a rope through the shackles and started walking off. Merlin scrambled to his feet, realising Arthur had every intention of dragging him otherwise. He made it up just in time, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to match Arthur’s pace. He could hear the man swearing and realised the prince must have noticed that his horse was nowhere to be seen.

“You can’t do this!” Merlin pretended to fight against the restraints. “You can’t treat me like this.”

“Be lucky you’re not dead,” Arthur snapped. He kept the rope taut and Merlin rolled his eyes. For now, the only thing he could do was let himself be dragged along like some common criminal.

He had to admit that Arthur’s clothes fit him well though and Merlin passed some of the time admiring the man in front of him. Just because they were on opposite sides didn’t mean Merlin couldn’t appreciate a good body, and he had seen first-hand just how good Arthur’s was.

“Will you stop staring?”

They were back in the forest, having walked for a few hours. Every time Arthur had glanced around, Merlin had been looking. This time, Arthur stopped and Merlin walked a few steps to let the tension out of the rope.

“Why? You’re gorgeous. Shame you’re such a prat. If you had just told me who you were last night, this would be a lot less awkward.”

“Why should I have told you? If anyone found out who I was, I could have been killed. Besides, you weren’t exactly forthcoming with who you are either.”

“If I had told you, I’d be the one who would be killed. Not that it makes any difference now as you’re still going to kill me.”

“If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead,” Arthur scoffed. Merlin inwardly grinned – the conversation was going according to plan.

“You’re taking me back to Camelot, Arthur. That’s a death sentence.”

“You’re taken to be judged for your crimes.”

“What crimes?”

“Magic.”

Merlin couldn’t help but notice that Arthur couldn’t hold his gaze. “What did the villagers tell you I did? Did I curse and kill them all? Or did I help them?”

Arthur shifted and didn’t say anything. He lifted his chin haughtily, but Merlin wondered if it was just to stop him from staring at his shoes like a boy caught out. He pressed his point.

“Magic isn’t evil, Arthur. No more than a sword is. It’s a weapon, a tool. Your father is irrational about it; you must know this.”

Merlin knew the second he spoke he had gone too far. Anger flashed in Arthur’s eyes and he stalked closer, wrapping the rope around his hand as he did so to stop Merlin from pulling away.

“Don’t you ever,” Arthur said, “speak of the king like that again.”

Before Merlin could say anything else, Arthur had yanked his scarf up and stuck it in his mouth. It was hardly an efficient gag, but Merlin took the point. Arthur walked off and Merlin was jerked forward as the prince set a punishing pace.

He pushed the scarf out with his tongue, but kept quiet for the time being. He could see tension lining Arthur’s shoulders and he knew that his words had touched a nerve with the prince. Maybe Arthur had never even thought himself about how he truly felt about magic, but instead felt he had to do as he was told? What interested Merlin the most was there was only respect in Arthur’s voice when he spoke of his father, no warmth or love. He was a knight talking of his king, not a son talking about his father.

Merlin went back to admiring the view as he tripped along. He knew he wouldn’t have long to wait until their positions were reversed. He only hoped that for now, Mordred wasn’t too close. Merlin didn’t want him seeing him chained like this, didn’t want to have to deal with the barbed comments despite it being part of the plan.

But he also hoped the others stayed true to the scheme and didn’t hurt Arthur. There was something about him that made Merlin want to keep him safe. He didn’t know if it was the vulnerability Arthur had shown the night before or just because he was gorgeous. But Merlin didn’t want him hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

“What will your father do when we get there?”

Arthur closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath before he opened them again. He could hardly navigate the forest with his eyes shut, after all, and he had no intention of giving Merlin a chance to escape.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Arthur still couldn’t believe it was Merlin. Not that there was any reason why it shouldn’t have been – they had only met the night before and talking had not been on their agenda then. Arthur cursed Merlin for having magic and then cursed himself for not noticing, for letting down his guard. He had begged Merlin to fuck him. And now he was going to have to beg again to make sure no one found out.

“Why should I?” Merlin’s words floated to him on a light breeze that had blown up. It was refreshing and despite himself, Arthur enjoyed being outside. “I’m going to be dead in a few days.”

Arthur stopped. “What is it with you and talking about death? You’ve been arrested, not sentenced.”

Merlin met his gaze steadily and didn’t say anything, only lifted an eyebrow. Arthur knew what he was thinking though. It was the same thing that had come out of his mouth every few sentences over the last couple of hours. Merlin truly believed being taken to Camelot was a death sentence. And Arthur couldn’t contradict him. He had never been rendered speechless before, but when Merlin had challenged him to name one person who had been pardoned or found innocent, words had left Arthur.

The same was true now. With Merlin not answering, Arthur didn’t know what to say or do. He kept reminding himself that Merlin was a dangerous sorcerer and willed his body to stop remembering how good it had felt. Even now, he couldn’t hold Merlin’s gaze and the sorcerer smirked.

“We were good together, weren’t we?”

Arthur turned on his heel and stalked off. He didn’t care that Merlin yelped and had to fight to keep his balance as the rope snapped taut.

“If I answer your original question, will you shut up?” Arthur said through gritted teeth. Talking of the king was better than talking of the night before. At least Arthur knew his standard answers when others questioned the man’s practice. Arthur had spent years defending the king, but he knew Merlin would see straight through his lack of conviction. No one else had noticed that Arthur was beginning to doubt the king’s orders, but he was sure that Merlin would. Just because it was his luck.

“Yes.”

“He’ll summon the court and hear your crimes.”

“From who?”

“Me.”

“You? What do you know about what I’ve done? You’ve seen me use magic once and you weren’t even hurt. I heard you were sent over the border after someone powerful. Have I given you enough evidence of that, _Your Highness_?”

Arthur regretted agreeing to answer the question. He stopped walking again, winding the rope around his hand as Merlin closed the gap between them. Arthur didn’t know what he intended to do when Merlin got close but he didn’t care.

“He’ll find the evidence. And then when he hears that you are guilty, you’ll be burnt at the stake. And I’ll watch.” Arthur had to give him credit; Merlin didn’t even flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, gaze roaming Arthur’s face intently, as if he was looking for something hidden in Arthur’s expression.

“And after that?”

Arthur knew it should be the end of the conversation. Merlin would be dead, there was no afterwards. But somehow, Arthur sensed his prisoner was asking what Arthur would do next. For a reason he couldn’t comprehend, Arthur told the truth. It was almost as if Merlin had cast a spell on him to make him talk.

“Then he’ll send the knights on several patrols as punishment for not keeping up with me.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be sent straight after someone else with a new escort because bringing one powerful sorcerer back doesn’t make up for the times I’ve let one go.”

“You’ve _what?”_

Arthur clamped his jaw shut, furious. No one knew about the “accidents” where someone had avoided him. But right now, he was going to be lucky not to end up at the stake with Merlin; the sorcerer had enough material to condemn him. Arthur hoped that his father refused to listen to a known magic-user. Arthur knew the king had a way of listening to those he should ignore and ignoring those who wanted him to listen. Arthur knew it far too well.

“If you ever breathe a word of this, I’ll make sure your death is agonising,” Arthur growled. The threat wasn’t enough to hide the pounding of his heart though. He had ruined everything. Merlin had done this, making him open his legs and his mouth. Snarling, Arthur drew Merlin closer and re-gagged him, tighter this time. Then he walked off, only let the fear show in his expression once he knew Merlin couldn’t see him. He needed to pull himself together, and fast.

For the first time in hours, Merlin got the hint and stayed quiet. When Arthur glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Merlin had pulled the material away from his mouth, but was watching the landscape pass them by. Arthur didn’t let himself become distracted again but pushed on.

As night started to fall and it became too dangerous to travel, he sighed.

“We’ll have to make camp.”

“You’ll have to, Your Highness,” Merlin quipped. “As I’m a little tied up.”

Arthur glared at him, leading him to the nearest tree and securing the rope to it. Merlin looked indignant.

“I’m not a horse!”

“Shh,” Arthur hissed. His hand went to his sword. He heard something; he was sure of it. The feeling of being watched had returned and he drew the weapon with practiced ease.

“What is it?”

“Quiet!” Arthur glared at Merlin before moving away. His gaze flickered around the surrounding area. He forced his eyes to relax, letting his vision sweep the forest rather than focusing on anything too intently. It was a trick a knight had taught him when he was young and it paid off. Arthur caught a flicker of movement over to the east.

“Stay here,” he called, not thinking about his words. Instead, he locked his gaze on the movement and charged towards it, ignoring Merlin’s shout after him. But when Arthur reached the area, there was no one there. He searched the area, gradually believing he was going mad. But then he saw it – a footprint in the damp earth. Arthur grinned, then realised there was no one here to congratulate him on his find. His smile slipped as he began to track it, then he gave an un-princely yelp. The tracks were leading back to the clearing! Arthur sprinted as fast as he could, hoping he beat whoever it was there.

Merlin was right before; Arthur would be disgraced if he didn’t bring a sorcerer back. Cursing the fact that he was now having to protect one in order to save himself, Arthur put on a burst of speed but deep down, he knew what he would find before he got there.

Merlin was gone.

Arthur swore loudly and turned to examine the area again.

“Merlin!” Part of him hoped Merlin might need rescuing and then he would stop making Arthur feel so uncomfortable. Providing, of course, he was still in ear shot and hadn’t been killed.

“Yes?”

Merlin’s voice came from right behind him and Arthur jumped. He spun, sword at the ready. Merlin was standing close and his hand rested over Arthur’s.

“Let go,” Arthur growled, struggling to bring the weapon between them.

“You let go. Drop it, Arthur.”

“Whose here? Who are you working with?”

“Did you forget the part where I have magic?” Merlin said softly. “I have no intention of letting you take me back to Camelot. We’ve got this far because I’ve let you bring me here.”

“What are you talking about?” Arthur couldn’t deny how hard his heart was pounding. Or the fact that his sword seemed to be growing hotter as he held it. He winced and a flicker of guilt shot across Merlin’s face. Arthur understood. He was doing this.

“Let it go,” Merlin said again. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Arthur stubbornly gripped tighter to the sword. There was no denying the flash of gold in Merlin’s eyes and Arthur let go with a yell, cradling his burnt hand. A red mark quickly rose on his palm and Arthur stepped back, away from Merlin. He didn’t know why he hadn’t done it before.

“What are you doing?” He said, trying to stop his voice from trembling. But he was unarmed and Arthur knew in that instant the rumours were true. Merlin was powerful and right now, Arthur was completely at his mercy if he couldn’t even hold his sword. His left hand began to reach towards the dagger strapped to his belt.

“Don’t.” Merlin jerked his head and Arthur felt an invisible weight pushing down on him. He fought it, but eventually had to drop to his knees, panting.

“If you’re going to kill me, get on with it,” Arthur spat. He hoped Merlin would think he was shaking in anger, not fear. Arthur had gone after sorcerers time and time again, and it was only now he realised that he had no way of fighting them. Merlin crouched in front of him, a gentle hand cupping Arthur’s cheek and tilting his head up. The pressure holding him down was unrelenting though.

“I’m not going to kill you, Arthur,” he said gently. He sounded older, far more mature than he had done when he had been the prisoner. He had the same confidence that he had displayed the night before and Arthur realised he had fallen for the act the whole time. He thought he had been leading Merlin, but all the time the sorcerer was just biding his time.

“Then…what do you want from me?”

“It’s not me. It wasn’t my idea. And I am sorry for this.”

“For what?” Arthur could move his head and that was it. It was enough though, enough to witness the same shackles that Arthur had locked around Merlin’s wrists flying into his outstretched hand. The magic holding Arthur down changed; he was flat out on his stomach before he realised he moved. An invisible and unstoppable force drew his arms behind him and Arthur was ashamed that he cried out as Merlin cuffed him.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t get hurt,” Merlin murmured apologetically, helping him back to his knees. Arthur shrugged off his touch, staring at him with wide eyes. As soon as Merlin backed off, Arthur jumped to his feet and ran. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have his sword or the use of his hands. He was getting away from Merlin, then he would deal with the problem.

He didn’t make it very far though. Just as he left the clearing, something snagged around his ankles and yanked him from his feet. Arthur fell heavily, the impact driving the air out of his lungs. He wasn’t sure if he had hit his head, for he was sure vines were disappearing back into the ground after they had come alive. A hand grabbed him and roughly dragged him back to the clearing. Arthur was too busy trying to stay on his feet to look at Merlin.

Arthur was pushed back to his knees as soon as the trees cleared. He didn’t try and rise, still trying to get his breath back properly. Not to mention he was getting the sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to be going anywhere Merlin didn’t want him to. He guessed that was the one advantage of having magic.

“That was too rough.” An angry voice exclaimed. Arthur started, realising it wasn’t Merlin who had brought him back. The sorcerer was standing in front of him, a furious look on his face. For a crazy second, Arthur felt touched that Merlin was angry over his treatment. Then he forced himself to see sense; he was a pawn in whatever game Merlin was playing, he didn’t care.

“If we were all as gentle as you, he’d be halfway back to Camelot by now.” Arthur turned at the sneering voice, seeing another young man standing there. He looked a little younger but also had dark hair and blue eyes. That was where his resemblance to Merlin stopped there, for his expression was cold and unless Arthur was mistaken, his gaze was hungry, predatory even, as he stared at Merlin.

Arthur suddenly knew who Merlin’s usual partner was and a flash of hot jealousy surged through him, although Arthur himself had no idea why. Merlin meant nothing, his current predicament should be testimony enough of that.

“Well, he’s not,” Merlin argued, flushing. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Look, if you’re going to kill me, just get on with it or let me go. I’ve got better things to do than listen to you two bickering.”

The second man glared but Arthur was sure he saw Merlin roll his eyes.

“I’ve already told you, I’m not going to kill you.”

“I told you the same thing but you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“That was different,” Merlin retorted. “That was… Never mind. He’s right, Mordred. We need to move.”

The other man – Mordred – clicked his fingers. Arthur’s eyes widened in horror as the rope that he had tied to the chains detached itself and looped around his neck. Before the end could reach Mordred’s hand though, Merlin’s eyes flared and the rope disappeared entirely.

“Enough,” he said. Merlin’s voice was low and Arthur shivered. It was only when Mordred turned and stalked off did Arthur realise it was Merlin’s power making him react. Judging by the way Mordred had backed down, Arthur knew he was stronger than the other man. Arthur realised that Merlin may yet be the most powerful he had ever come across. The rumours had been true.

Merlin put a hand on his arm and helped him to his feet. Arthur’s hands twisted in the chains but he was fully aware that it could have been worse. A lot worse. He had hardly been gentle with Merlin.

“Thanks,” he muttered self-consciously, looking everywhere but Merlin. If it had been anyone else, he would have struggled and fought. But Merlin… Arthur didn’t know what he had seen in him the previous night, but it was enough for him to believe that he wasn’t about to be killed.

“Now you’re not in control, maybe we can talk,” Merlin said cheerfully. He gestured for Arthur to start walking. Arthur looked around, hoping for a sudden rescue, but nothing was coming. Merlin stopped and picked up Arthur’s sword and the prince knew that no one would ever find out he had been here. His father would have him flogged for this.

His palms were sweaty as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and Arthur had no way of hiding how nervous he was. Knowing Merlin wouldn’t kill him was hardly reassuring as he was led deeper and deeper into the twisting forest.

“So, your father…” Merlin began and Arthur groaned out loud.

“Gag me now.”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport,” Merlin pouted. Then he turned serious. “My mistress is going to want answers from you, Arthur. Don’t make it hard for yourself.”

“You know I’ve been trained to withstand torture?” Arthur sounded braver than he felt. He was fully aware those with magic had other ways of getting answers without resorting to physical pain. But Merlin looked at him in astonishment.

“What sort of upbringing did you have?” he asked, voice lined with surprise. Arthur was stunned by Merlin’s reaction and he told himself that it was just to pass the time that he told Merlin a little of his childhood. He didn’t betray anyone or anything, other than perhaps himself when their conversation eventually made him admit that he had been lonely and Merlin had expressed empathy and told him stories in return about his mother being killed only a few years ago and his mistress – Arthur noticed Merlin never named her – taking him in. Arthur didn’t notice that his hands had stopped twisting in their restraints.

They walked for a few hours, Mordred staying ahead of them but always remaining in sight. Arthur wasn’t sure Merlin noticed the hateful looks that Mordred cast over his shoulder at them and Arthur knew he would have to be on his guard around Mordred. Merlin might have promised not to kill him, but Mordred was a different matter entirely.

As darkness fell, they slowed, then stopped. Mordred looked at Merlin, who nodded. The younger man disappeared into the trees surrounding them. Literally. Arthur’s nerves returned and he tripped back a step.

“Merlin…”

“We’re here. Arthur, this has been planned for a long time. It’s nothing against you, honest. We just need your father to listen.”

“You think kidnapping me will make him listen?” Arthur let out a hollow laugh. “Have you listened to nothing I’ve said? He doesn’t care!” Arthur didn’t realise his voice had risen to a shout until it faded away and the silence fell, heavy and repressing.

Arthur stepped back again. “He’ll kill you all, Merlin. Let me go and I’ll never reveal this place, you have my word.”

Arthur knew this was his last chance. If he entered this camp, the amount of magic would make escape impossible. Merlin looked torn.

“I…”

“Merlin!”

Mordred’s shout made Merlin close his eyes in resignation. When he opened them again, Arthur knew it was over.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. Arthur nodded, regaining his strength and his pride and lifting his head.

“Let’s get this over with then,” he muttered tersely, pushing past Merlin and striding into the unknown with his hands bound behind his back.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur stopped. Shivers ran across his body and he turned to look back the way they had come. Merlin stepped next to him and smiled gently.

“It’s a shielding spell,” he said, confirming Arthur’s thoughts he had stepped through something. “It keeps us hidden. This way.”

He put a hand on Arthur’s arm. Arthur let him; it was better than stumbling around without a clue where he was going and he trusted Merlin far more than he did Mordred. He gazed around as he was led through the camp. He wouldn’t have guessed there would be so many people here.

“This is our home, not some army base,” Merlin explained quietly, seeing where Arthur was looking. “Anyone seeking sanctuary from yo-from your father can come here.”

Arthur knew full well Merlin had gone to blame Arthur as much as his father. He couldn’t blame him; he had led most of the patrols that had resulted in sorcerers being captured. Arthur highly doubted any of the frightened faces looking up at him now would believe he had let a few people go. He had believed those people were innocent, but Arthur wondered how much he had got wrong. Merlin was right: he hadn’t done anything bad and yet seeing him use magic had been enough for Arthur to try and take him in.

Arthur dropped his gaze and kept his head down. This might not be an army base, but he was surrounded by potential enemies and each one – even the smallest child – could possibly have magic. His hands were tied and he didn’t have his sword. Arthur had no intention of making himself a target.

“She’s waiting.” Mordred stopped in front of them and there was a sneer on his face as he looked at Arthur. “She is most anxious to meet him.”

“She?” Arthur asked, directing his question at Merlin. Mordred, however, snarled and suddenly sunk his fist into Arthur’s stomach. Winded, the prince doubled over with a cough but Merlin’s grip tightened on his arm and stopped him from either stumbling or retaliating.

“My mistress. Nimueh. And if you touch him again, Mordred, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning. Come on, Arthur.” Merlin began walking off again. Arthur was quick to fall in step with him, but he noted that Mordred kept back. Whatever their personal situation, it was clear that Merlin had a position of authority that Mordred respected even if he didn’t like.

Merlin led the way through tents and Arthur realised they were more spaced out further in. He knew this layout; his father’s tent was always in the centre of camp with plenty of space surrounding it. They stopped in front of a grand tent and Arthur knew it had to belong to Nimueh. Despite being sure he had never met her, the name stirred something deep in Arthur’s memory. He knew that couldn’t mean anything good though; if this was personal it was going to be a lot harder to survive.

Merlin held the tent flap back but just as Arthur stepped forward, an invisible force caught around his ankles. He fell heavily, not being able to break his fall and grimaced as his chin hit the ground and his whole body jerked with the impact.

“Mordred!” Merlin yelled and unless Arthur was mistaken, magic was sparking off him.

“Calm yourself,” a voice said. Arthur stayed on the ground but craned his head up as a tall and slender woman stepped from the shadows. She was dressed in a red dress and held herself like royalty. Arthur could sense the same vibe off her as he could with Merlin. She was powerful.

“Nimueh, I assume,” Arthur muttered. He drew himself back to his knees but stayed on the floor. He figured it would be harder for Mordred to try anything if he was already down, but the younger sorcerer didn’t appear. Nimueh stepped closer, a hand resting on Merlin’s shoulder. Arthur was sure her fingers were digging in despite Merlin showing no signs of pain. Whatever their relationship was, it was not affectionate.

“You’ve done well, Merlin,” Nimueh said, as if Arthur hadn’t spoken. “You can rest now.”

“I want to stay.”

“You should rest.” There was power in her words that had nothing to do with magic and Merlin swallowed. He dipped his head and left, although paused in the tent entrance to look back at Arthur. As soon as he was gone, Nimueh clapped her hands and Arthur felt the bindings around his wrists fall away. He tentatively stood up, rubbing his sore hands as he did so.

“What do you want from me?” He asked guardedly. She was powerful and he was unarmed. He took a small step back.

“Do not try and run, little princeling. You wouldn’t get five steps and it would not be befitting to one of your station to drag you back by your ankles.”

Arthur knew it wasn’t an empty threat, he could see it in her eyes. She gestured towards where two chairs were resting either side of a small brazier and Arthur took the hint. He sunk gratefully into the chair and regretted it seconds later when he found himself once again bound. Nimueh picked up a cup of wine, smirking at him. Arthur’s hands were pinned to his side and his torso was tied to the chair.

“Precautions. Your father has killed too many of us for me to let my guard down around his whelp.”

“What do you want from me?” Arthur repeated. He stopped struggling, sat up straighter and lifted his chin. Unless he was mistaken, Nimueh looked approving.

“Every inch the prince, aren’t you, Arthur?”

“Answer the question.”

Nimueh rolled her eyes. “You’re just as stubborn as your father. Very well. You are now our hostage until your father agrees to stop the persecution of those with magic.”

“He’ll never do that.”

“Then you’ll be here a long time.”

“And what if he breaks his word once he has me back?”

Nimueh smiled and Arthur shivered at the expression. She looked predatory and Arthur knew he was the prey.

“Tell me, Arthur,” Nimueh said, her voice sickly sweet. “Have you ever been cursed?”

Despite attempting to remain dignified, Arthur shuddered at the thought. He hadn’t, but his father had told him stories about when magic had roamed the land and curses were common between feuding families. There was no telling when the curse would be enacted, only that agony was the result. At least, that was what his father had always said, but Arthur couldn’t be sure anymore whether that had been to scare his young heir rather than being the truth.

“No,” Arthur eventually said. He swallowed and tried to hide his fear. “I haven’t.”

“If your father agrees, I will place one on you.”

“What?! But…”

“Then he if he stays true to his word, it will fade away. But if he so much as lifts a finger against a single one of my people, I will make sure your screams are the only thing he hears as he watches his son die.”

“Why?” Arthur said. “Why do this? Why go to these extremes when you could just…”

“Just what?”

Arthur knew what he was about to say could be taken as treason. But he didn’t see what choice he had. He was the only way this could be resolved peacefully and it wasn’t as if his father’s reign would continue forever.

“Just talk.”

“To Uther Pendragon?”

“No. To me.”

Arthur took it as a victory that Nimueh blinked, staring at him for a long moment without saying anything. The smile on her face softened and Arthur almost convinced himself that it was genuine.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you, little princeling?” She waved her hand and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief when the invisible bonds once again fell away. “Not as loyal as you want Daddy to believe.”

“I am loyal,” Arthur insisted. “I just think there has to be another way. A better way.”

“Maybe,” Nimueh sounded thoughtful. She stood, turning her back to Arthur as she poured another goblet of wine. Arthur knew it was a test that she had turned her back and he sat still. Nimueh handed him the goblet.

“Here’s to negotiation then.”

Arthur clinked his cup against hers and drank deeply. He knew he was in over his head and the walk here had left him parched. The wine rushed through his body and Arthur slumped. After a moment, a heavy lethargy settled into his limbs and the cup fell from slack fingers.

“I don’t have time for surprises,” Nimueh murmured. Her fingers brushed through his hair but Arthur couldn’t pull away. He tried to say something and only a whimper escaped him. Nimueh hushed him gently.

“Be a good boy and you might just come out of this alive,” she murmured. Arthur struggled, trying to force his body to listen to him. He could only get a finger to twitch before the drug pulled him under and darkness clouded everything.

MMM

Merlin gnawed on his thumb nail as he paced. It was a habit Nimueh had encouraged him to break when he had first arrived at the camp, terrified and with nothing left. She told him he was destined to be a leader and it didn’t look good for leaders to show their nerves. He thought he had overcome it, but the bleeding flesh told him otherwise.

He glanced at the tent as he forced himself to lower his hand. The sun was setting and he knew it wouldn’t be long before Arthur woke up. He had been worried when Nimueh had ordered him to secure Arthur’s unconscious form but seeing the steady rise and fall of the prince’s chest, he knew it was a straightforward sleeping draught. Strong, but simple. Merlin hadn’t protested, knowing full well Mordred would not be so gentle.

A sudden yell made Merlin freeze. He forced himself to take a breath and told himself he could handle this. Arthur was secured by a chain around his ankle attached to the central post of the tent. The whole thing was sealed with magic. All Merlin had to do was back out of reach and Arthur wouldn’t be able to touch him. That didn’t calm his nerves though and Merlin had to take another deep breath before he could pull back the tent flap and stride in.

“Let me go,” Arthur snarled. His boots and cloak had been removed and his hair looked rumpled from where Arthur had clear run his fingers through it. Barefoot and tousled, there was something innocent about him like this and Merlin’s mind flashed back to when he had last seen Arthur look vulnerable.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” he began. He didn’t know what he was going to say but Arthur didn’t give him the chance to continue.

“Not ideal?” he mocked. He flicked his foot so the chain rattled. “You can’t treat me like a dog! I’m the Crown Prince and First Knight of Camelot and I demand that you release me immediately.”

“You’re in no position to make bargains,” Merlin said. He sat down cross-legged by the entrance, making sure he was out of Arthur’s reach. He genuinely wanted to calm Arthur down, not wanting to draw attention to the prince. He also didn’t want Arthur to hurt himself, although why he was even thinking that, Merlin had no idea.

“How dare-,”

“Arthur, stop it.” Merlin was surprised when the prince fell silent. “You didn’t listen to me when I tried to convince you to let me go. I’m not going to listen to you. We’ve risked too much for this plan.”

“You didn’t really want to me to release you though.”

“Not the point.” Merlin rested back on his palms, trying to appear relaxed so Arthur would follow suit. “I couldn’t free you even if I wanted to, this is hardly just about us.”

“No. I’m just the one that is going to be cursed if not killed immediately. Forgive me for worrying.”

Merlin had to fight hard to keep his expression neutral. Nimueh had refused to tell him how she was going to make sure Uther Pendragon kept his side of the bargain, but now he knew. She was going to curse the prince. Merlin wondered if she would enact it as well; there was something dangerous about her that he had never understood. This wasn’t just about protecting those with magic for her. It was personal.

“If you don’t struggle, no harm will come to you. I promise.”

“And you have the power to make sure that happens, do you?” Arthur scoffed. He looked disbelieving and Merlin knew he didn’t exactly look the part.

“Yes.” He spoke simply and calmly. Arthur had come out here because of the rumours, he knew that Merlin was powerful. The prince looked as if he was going to make another remark, but the words died in his throat and he just nodded sharply. Merlin took that as a victory.

“All we want, all _I_ want is to makes sure people can stroll through the forest without the fear of being dragged to Camelot in chains.”

“People really live like that?” Arthur was watching him closely now, an unreadable expression on his face. It was torn between confusion and despair. Merlin saw his opening and nodded.

“Yes. Your patrols terrify people. They believe the knights instinctively know if they can use magic, even if they don’t witness it themselves. Too many innocent people have been executed at the hands of your father.”

“I’m not my father,” Arthur said distractedly. He ran his fingers through his hair and Merlin bit his lip at the desire that shot through him. The fact Arthur was so stubborn and demanding added a certain charm to his looks, almost like a petulant child. Merlin grinned before glancing away so Arthur didn’t see him. He had come in here to talk seriously, to try and make Arthur see reason before the man got himself hurt. Thinking he looked utterly delectable was not going to help matters.

“I didn’t know,” Arthur continued. His voice was soft and he stared at Merlin. Merlin blinked; he hadn’t expected anything close to compliance and yet Arthur sounded genuine right now.

“You even care?”

“I’m not a monster, Merlin, whatever your rumours about me. These are my people, or will be one day. You think I want my subjects living in fear? A king is only as strong as his people and my father…” He trailed off, looking guilty. Merlin climbed slowly to his feet.

“Yes?”

“My father isn’t the man he once was.” Arthur wouldn’t meet his eye and Merlin wondered if this was the first time he had admitted it out loud. After all, he was breaking through other boundaries with Merlin, why not add treason onto it?

“You can change things for the better, Arthur.” Merlin didn’t realise he had stepped forward, his gaze locked on the prince. His heart was pounding and his palms felt dry. All Merlin had ever heard about Arthur was that he was a blight to magic-users, a terrifying and formidable opponent. His reaction on the hill had shown that Arthur was rough when it came to getting what he wanted, but Merlin saw something else. He saw the innocence, the vulnerability and the genuine desire to help his people.

He only wished that Nimueh saw it as well, it would make this whole thing easier.

“Arthur,” Merlin said. He reached out, touching his shoulder gently. Arthur flinched as if he hadn’t seen Merlin coming and the warlock dropped his hand. “Arthur, you can change things. Agree to Nimueh’s plan and this will all be over.”

“I can’t.”

“But…”

“How can I agree to a plan that her own people do not even like?”

Merlin blinked, staring at him. What was Arthur talking about? Merlin wondered if someone had spoken, but Arthur hadn’t had the chance to engage with anyone else.

“How-?”

“The tension in your shoulders as soon as we arrived. The look in your eye, the fact you’re here to reason with me rather than letting me stew in fear as no doubt she would want.”

Merlin stared at him. He thought he had been careful. Even Mordred didn’t know Merlin wasn’t sure this would work and the younger man always seemed to be watching him these days. If he had realised, Merlin knew he would have said something – Mordred had always been jealous of his position with Nimueh.

Arthur smirked, raised an eyebrow and turned away.

“And your lack of protest.”

“What’s it like?” Merlin forced himself to find his voice again. “Being an insufferable, know-it-all prat?”

“Better than being a sorcerer.”

Merlin flinched. He grabbed Arthur’s shoulder, spinning him back. “Look,” he began but his words died when he realised how close Arthur was and how blue his eyes were. He had noticed the previous night, but this was different. Now he knew who Arthur was.

“Yes?” Arthur’s lips twitched and Merlin swallowed at feeling the prince’s leg pressing against his own. Arthur knew full well what he was doing. “What is it that you want, Merlin?”

“Don’t you know?” Merlin whispered, not being at all sure what he was doing. His hand was still resting on Arthur’s shoulder and his thumb brushed it gently. Arthur seemed to soften and he leaned in closer.

“No,” he smirked. “Not such a know-it-all now, am I?”

He pulled away and stalked as far in the opposite direction as the chain would let him. Merlin stared, angry and aroused in equal measures, but Arthur didn’t turn back.

“Clotpole,” Merlin muttered under his breath. He quickly left and breathed in deeply once he was outside, trying to clear his head. It didn’t work, and Merlin knew he wouldn’t be able to think straight while Arthur was here.

Merlin couldn’t wait for it to all be over. As fast as possible.


	6. Chapter 6

A yell rose to Arthur’s lips but at the last minute, he swallowed it. He had to hide his frustration and conceal his fear. No one could know he was trying to find a way of breaking the chain around his ankle. It wasn’t working though; there didn’t seem to be a keyhole in either the manacle locked around his foot or the one wrapped around the post. Clearly magic was being used to ensure that he stayed put and for once, Arthur wouldn’t have minded if someone thought less of him.

He knew that wouldn’t happen though. Merlin had seen what he was capable of when Arthur had tackled him off the hill. He refused to think Merlin had also seen him flat on his back begging to be fucked like a common whore. Maybe his father was right and it was a position that no prince should ever find himself in.

He couldn’t deny it had felt good though.

Arthur snarled, wrenching his mind away from thoughts of Merlin. The man was his enemy now and it didn’t matter how good he was in bed, Arthur knew he couldn’t let those sort of thoughts distract him. He had to find a way out of here himself as he was positive the shielding spell he had stepped through to enter the camp would stop the knights from discovering their whereabouts. Even if they walked straight past the location, they wouldn’t know he was here.

Arthur stopped struggling and shuddered at the thought. This was why magic was dangerous. If they could shield this entire camp, then there would be no telling what else could be hidden. Armies, weapons… Camelot could be defenceless and they would never know until it was too late.

Arthur felt it was too late already. He slumped to the ground, absently flicking at the chain around his foot. Merlin’s earlier chat had left him confused. He had noticed Merlin’s attitude towards Nimueh’s plan and had hoped it would be enough for Merlin to release him. But when it wasn’t, Arthur hadn’t expected the talk to turn back on him so much. He couldn’t get what Merlin said out of his head. His father always spoke about how strong their kingdom was without magic, but Arthur hated the thought there were a group of people living in terror just because of a certain skill they possessed. He had let some sorcerers slip through his fingers when he discovered they had only healed a loved one or it seemed nothing more than a rumour, but could it be that he had it completely wrong?

He flicked again at the chain as he thought. Most of the links clinked, but when one hit the ground with a dull noise, Arthur stared at it. Perhaps he didn’t need to release the manacles after all?

Wrapping the chain around his foot, Arthur positioned himself so the weak link would strike the ground and lashed out as hard as he could. He repeated the process several times, but he only seemed to be squeezing the link together. He needed something to prise it apart, but it was no surprise that there was nothing in reach.

Arthur stood, trying to stretch to the edge of the tent to pull out one of the pegs holding it down. He couldn’t quite reach though and jumped guiltily when a cough sounded behind him. Arthur turned to see Merlin standing there, one eyebrow raised and a plate of food in his hands.

“I’d ask what you are doing, but I’m assuming it is some great plan of escape that you wouldn’t tell me about anyway.”

Arthur didn’t have a response. His eyes were locked on Merlin’s belt. Or rather, the dagger at his waist. Arthur wondered if Merlin had ever used it when it was clear he was so powerful, but pushed the matter from his mind. What he should be focusing on was how to get it off him without Merlin noticing as it would be perfect for what Arthur had in mind.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No.” Arthur made to turn away when an idea slipped into his mind. It was the most un-princely thing he could think of and that was enough for a thrill to race down his spine. “I just…”

He glanced away, keeping his actions coy. Merlin had already bedded him once with little persuasion, but Arthur wondered if it would be so easy the second time. There were no hidden identifies now, nothing to hide behind.

“Arthur.” Merlin placed the plate down and moved across the tent, his hand resting lightly on Arthur’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I want to help you.”

Arthur shoved his pride down and let a more primitive side of him take over. “I know,” he murmured. His hands found Merlin’s waist and he ignored the man’s surprised hitch of breath.

“And I want to thank you for that.”

“Arthur, what happened before…” Merlin sounded breathless and Arthur looked up at him as he dropped to his knees.

“It was everything I wanted,” he said honestly. “As is this.”

It was no act that his fingers were shaking as he scrabbled at Merlin’s belt, trying to get the knot undone. When it suddenly fell away, he glanced up just as Merlin’s eyes faded back to blue.

“Sorry,” Merlin shrugged. “I guess… Well, it’s what I want too.”

Arthur needed no further invitation and he quickly freed the lacing on Merlin’s breeches. He yanked them to just below the swell on Merlin’s arse and was quick to swallow him down, just the way others had done for him. But he almost instantly gagged, eyes watering as he fought for breath. No one had ever told him the unpleasantness of feeling someone rising to hardness and not being able to breath.

Then gentle fingers carded through his hair.

“Easy,” Merlin soothed. He pulled out, his fingers moving until they stroked Arthur’s cheek. “You don’t have to do this.”

Arthur looked up at him. He already had Merlin’s belt loosened. With a little manoeuvring, he would have the knife and he wouldn’t need to go through with this.

Arthur shook his head. “I want to.”

He surprised himself with how true it was. The night before had been amazing, Arthur couldn’t deny it. He clearly wasn’t getting out of here and he told himself the more he distracted Merlin, the more chance he had of getting the knife and getting away. He was lying to himself and he knew it, but he refused to acknowledge that he wanted to know what this was like and Merlin was the one he trusted to show him.

“Close your eyes,” Merlin whispered. Arthur obeyed, relaxing his jaw and letting his mouth fall open at the same time. Merlin pushed in softly, barely moving as he let Arthur adjust.

It didn’t take long until Arthur was chasing him. Hands gripped Merlin’s arse and he worked out how to breathe through his nose. Merlin’s hand returned to his hair and Arthur took it as a personal victory when his grip instinctively tightened and his breathing begun to stutter. He had always known he was a good lover; it didn’t surprise him that he was as good at taking as he was at giving.

Arthur coughed as Merlin’s knees went weak. The sorcerer collapsed down next to him, tangled in his own breeches. Arthur knew he should reach for the knife now that Merlin wasn’t focusing on anything but he couldn’t. The only thing Arthur himself could think about was the throbbing hardness between his legs. He pressed a hand to his crotch and Merlin saw the movement

To Arthur’s delight, he pulled his belt off completely before wriggling from his trousers. Persuasive hands touched Arthur’s shoulders, encouraging him to lie back and clever fingers worked Arthur’s own laces free. Arthur automatically hitched his hips so Merlin could draw them down his legs.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He should be using the dagger to make sure Merlin was no longer a threat and getting out of here. But Arthur knew that wouldn’t happen, not when a moan escaped his throat when a cool hand wrapped around him. Merlin smiled.

“We could make your stay a lot more pleasant,” he said, a sly note in his voice. Arthur didn’t answer; he couldn’t. Instead, he let his head fall back against the ground and bucked into Merlin’s hand. He figured Merlin must have spelled him to make Arthur give in this easily, but what frightened him more was that he didn’t care. Being able to do things differently was intoxicating and Arthur knew there would be plenty of time for escape later.

So instead, he reached up and threaded his fingers through Merlin’s hair, gripping hard with a snarl even as he shuddered and trembled under the man’s grip.

MMM

Merlin shivered as a cool breeze danced over his naked body. For a moment, he just smiled. Then he realised that he wasn’t in his own tent and this had been far more pleasurable than coupling with Mordred. His hand drifted to the side, convinced that was where Arthur had been lying when they had finally fallen asleep. Merlin had only been planning to bring Arthur some food; he certainly hadn’t been expecting the following events.

But Arthur wasn’t there. Merlin sighed, opening his eyes and glancing around the tent. The man was chained, he had to be here somewhere. It took a few moments before Merlin realised what he was seeing.

“Fuck!” He sat up suddenly, ignoring the way the tent spun at his sudden movement and scrambled for his clothes. Arthur was gone. As he pulled on his trousers and scrabbled for his belt, Merlin realised how. The prince had used his dagger to prize open a weak link in his chain. Merlin couldn’t help it – he grinned. He had been told the prince was good, but had been prepared to underestimate him. It seemed the rumours about Arthur were as accurate as the ones about his own power.

He had just finished dressing when there came a yell from outside. If Arthur escaped, everything they had planned would be ruined. Merlin might not have agreed with Nimueh, but he knew something had to be done to stop Uther’s tyranny and Arthur was key to that. At the last second, he snatched up his dagger and stuck the useless weapon back through his belt. No one was going to blame this on him.

He slipped out of the tent, ducked past a few trees and approached from a different direction. As soon as he saw Mordred with his hands raised and magic flowing from him, Merlin broke into a run.

“Stop it!”

Arthur was on the floor, vines wrapped around his ankles and torso, binding his arms to his sides. He didn’t appear to be struggling, and then Merlin saw the vine wrapped around his neck. Never mind struggling, Arthur was barely breathing.

Merlin cried a spell, his hand outstretched. The vines instantly fell away, Mordred’s power being nothing against Merlin’s. He dropped to his knees and quickly pulled the plant away from Arthur’s neck. It seemed like an age before Arthur drew in a ragged breath but then he coughed and spluttered as he fought to get air back to his lungs. Merlin stood up. He might have bedded the man, but Arthur was still their prisoner and he shouldn’t have tried to escape. He wouldn’t - couldn’t – offer comfort, especially not in front of Mordred.

“Were you trying to kill him? We need him.”

“He escaped,” Mordred said coldly. “Broke through the spell on the chain, no doubt. Your spell. Should I be questioning how?”

“No,” Merlin snapped. “But Nimueh won’t be impressed if you kill her hostage.”

“She’ll be less impressed that she listened to you about keeping him in comfort. Anyone would think you wanted him to escape.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, exasperated beyond measure. Mordred always found a way to annoy him, the niggling little doubts that worked at Merlin’s consciousness. Then he noticed Arthur was trying to subtly pull himself across the ground away from the two sorcerers. Merlin pressed him to the floor with a flick of his hand, solidifying air and letting it rest on Arthur’s back. It wasn’t painful, but Arthur wouldn’t be squirming out of that one.

“Stop making matters worse,” he told the prince. Arthur couldn’t twist to glare at him, but Merlin could guess at the look the man would be sending his way the next time they were face to face. Arthur’s fingers were clawing in the dirt and Merlin imagined he was fighting with everything he had to try and get out from under the spell. Although Merlin knew he wouldn’t escape, he didn’t want to listen to Arthur’s hitching breath. Arthur was fighting with everything he had to get away.

He had told Arthur that Uther terrified the people. But Nimueh had told him that Uther had taught his heir to hate sorcerers. Merlin knew hatred came from fear and that although he would never admit it, there was every chance Arthur was terrified right now. After all, he was surrounded by people who could end his life with a click of their fingers if they desired.

“Take him somewhere safe,” Merlin ordered. Two men moved forward and Merlin waited until they had a tight grip on Arthur before releasing the magic. They pulled the prince to his feet and bound his hands before bundling him away. They were taking no chances and Merlin ran a hand over his face. He had hoped things would turn out differently when Nimueh had first told him the plan.

He glanced at Mordred, only to see the younger man was watching Arthur being dragged off. Merlin knew the look on his face.

“If you hurt him,” he said, his voice deadly, “you’ll have to answer to me.”

Mordred opened his mouth, but Merlin was already beginning to walk off. Too many times had Mordred accused him of being disloyal. Merlin knew it was only because he was jealous of his position with Nimueh and the fact he had authority in the camp when Mordred had none. But when it came to Arthur, Merlin wasn’t sure how he was going to defend himself. Nimueh had a way of knowing things. It was one thing sleeping with him when they didn’t know who the other was. But the night before… Merlin still wasn’t sure how that had come about.

He took a few strides towards his own tent, preparing to wash and get ready for the day, when the answer struck him. He groaned out loud before glancing around and making sure no one had heard him. Arthur had played him the whole time; he had only been after the dagger. He must have realised that as he had seduced Merlin once, he would be able to do it again.

“Damn him,” Merlin whispered as he splashed water on his face. This was his fault. He hadn’t thought in the way that Nimueh had trained him – suspecting and doubting every motive. As per usual, he had let his heart rule his head and because of him, Arthur was now in a far worse position. Mordred wouldn’t give him the chance to escape again and Merlin couldn’t defend him without coming under questioning himself.

He changed, washed and pulled himself together before leaving the tent.

“Merlin.”

Although Nimueh’s voice was quiet and calm, Merlin still jumped. He turned to face his mistress, dipping his head.

“My Lady.”

“You rested well, I trust?” There was an edge to her voice and Merlin forced himself to keep calm.

“I did. I’ve had journeys far worse. I knew I could handle anything he might throw my way.”

“You did well.” Nimueh walked closer, her dress flowing around her like a river of blood. “But he repaid you in ill-favour trying to escape.”

“I enchanted them properly. He must have found another way.” Merlin had never considered the links themselves, he had only thought about the locks. Nimueh nodded and Merlin knew he had somehow got away with it.

“I believe you, although there are others who won’t.”

“Mordred.”

She nodded again. “He has always been a jealous young man. First of your power, now of something else, I believe. Watch yourself.”

She walked off and Merlin stared after her. Was she warning him to watch his back because he had slept with Arthur? He had always known that Mordred got more out of their coupling than Merlin did, but he was young, lonely and Mordred was attractive in his own way. It was nothing compared to what had happened with Arthur. But if Mordred knew he thought like that… Merlin knew he wouldn’t be the one to pay the price. Arthur would.

Shuddering, he moved towards the prince’s new prison. Why did it even bother him? It shouldn’t, and Merlin made every effort to keep his mind on the mission.

He ducked through a tent flap and stopped with a sigh. Arthur was on his knees, arms pulled around the support post and bound there. He looked up as Merlin entered and the warlock saw that he had been gagged. Arthur wouldn’t be talking his way out of trouble now. Or, for that matter, using his mouth for anything else.

“Well,” Merlin said, putting his hands on his hips. “You’re in a right mess now, aren’t you?”

Arthur glared at him. Before Merlin realised it, he had taken a small step back. He had seen the innocent and vulnerable side of Arthur. But covered in dirt, bound and gagged with such a ferocious look on his face, Merlin understood for the first time why people were afraid of the prince.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur fought furiously with the bindings around his wrists. While they weren’t painfully tight, he had been securely bound and knew the rope wasn’t going to snap loose, no matter how much he struggled. He couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t sit here at the mercy of every sorcerer in this accursed camp and wait for someone to kill or curse him.

As it was, he was already cursing himself. He should have remembered Mordred. The fact these people had magic changed all the rules and Arthur was sure they had no honour or qualms about killing a man while his back was turned.

Apart from Merlin. Arthur didn’t think he was the sort.

Shaking his head, he would have yelled if he wasn’t gagged. The last thing he needed was to be thinking fond thoughts about Merlin. The man had been less than sympathetic when he visited Arthur earlier that day and the prince was aware he wouldn’t be able to trick him in the same manner again. Not that he would want to. At least…

Arthur vehemently told himself he didn’t want to. It was better than thinking about how good it had been. Again.

Throwing his entire body forward, Arthur tried to see if the pole would give. Then he promptly realised pulling a tent down on top of him wouldn’t lead to an unobtrusive escape. Instead, he began rubbing his wrists against the post, hoping there would be enough friction to cause the rope to fray. It didn’t have to be a lot, just enough for Arthur to then break free. It was no good though; the post was smooth and there wasn’t so much as a splinter sticking out.

Arthur fell still, staring at the ground and breathing heavily through his nose. For the first time in a long time, he was acutely aware that he was helpless. His hands were tied and there was no weapon to reach. His mouth was silenced and Arthur knew the protective spells around the camp would mean his knights wouldn’t be able to find him.

The prince didn’t realise his breathing was becoming shallow, short gasps catching in the gag until he felt a familiar weight in his chest. Arthur snarled, angry at himself that such an old opponent could arise now. He had bigger issues to deal with and yet knew that was exactly the reason why he couldn’t catch his breath, why the whole world felt like it was closing in on him and why Arthur felt he was about to black out.

He could deal with this! He had dealt with it before and was not going to let a panic attack render him helpless now. He dug his nails into his palms, concentrating hard on the sharp pain for a few seconds. Then he breathed in deeply, controlling each breath and allowing it to fill him up before he exhaled slowly. It was hard with a piece of cloth tied around his mouth, but the pressure gradually lessened and his vision stopped darkening. Once he was sure he had control, Arthur lent his head back on the pole and shut his eyes, exhausted.

“That wasn’t the first time you’ve done that, was it?”

His eyes shot open and Arthur straightened. Merlin was standing in the opening and both the look on his face and his words revealed he had seen what happened. Arthur glared at him, but to his surprise, Merlin merely sighed and walked further into the tent. Arthur tried to push himself back, not trusting the sorcerer, but Merlin merely leant forward and tugged the gag out. Arthur worked his jaw for a moment, startled when Merlin settled cross-legged in front of him.

“What do you want?”

“I didn’t think a prince would suffer from panic attacks,” Merlin mused. “With all those servants and courtiers fawning over you.”

“It’s not always like that,” Arthur muttered. He knew he shouldn’t say anything. Merlin’s head tilted to one side.

“What did he do to you?”

“Who?”

“Your father. You’re not completely loyal to him and he’s the only one with true authority over a prince. So what did he do?”

“I am loyal,” Arthur protested hotly. Inside, he was squirming. How could Merlin come so close to the truth when he knew nothing about Arthur? People Arthur surrounded him daily and yet they had no idea. “Just because your father cuddled you to sleep every night.”

“Never knew him,” Merlin said casually, but Arthur was sure something stirred behind the man’s eyes.

“I knew it.” Arthur’s lip curled and he sneered. “Bastard.”

His words didn’t have the desired effect though. Merlin merely looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m a warlock, not a bastard. Don’t try and belittle me, Arthur. You’re the one tied to a post, not me. Besides, I never knew my father and from what I hear, you never knew your mother. I’m not calling you names, am I?”

“She died,” Arthur spat. Fury rose hot within him and he struggled again. “She died for me!”

He didn’t know what impact he was hoping for. But Merlin looked at the ground, his fingers twisting together. It was the first uncertain gesture Arthur had seen him make.

“That feeling I understand.” He spoke quietly, sorrow lining his tone. Despite trying to convince himself he didn’t care, Arthur fell still.

“What happened?” he asked. Merlin’s words stirred something in him; the familiar guilt, grief and pain that had haunted him his whole life. He knew this was no trick on Merlin’s behalf, he could see it in the slump of the man’s shoulders.

“Cendred heard the same rumour you did.” Merlin spoke hesitantly, refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes. The prince shifted, drawing his legs under him and stretching them out. He winced as he did so, feeling the blood beginning to circulate again from where he had been sitting on them. But he didn’t speak, not wanting Merlin to stop even if he didn’t know why.

“He sent his soldiers after me. But I was young, only thirteen summers. I didn’t know how to defend myself. She t-tried…” Merlin broke off, drawing in a sharp breath. “She tried to keep me safe and they cut her down. My magic took over; I don’t know what I did. Nimueh found me unconscious three days later and I’ve been here ever since.”

Arthur stared at him, pity welling within. He thought he had been through hardships; his father’s disapproval and the consequences of not being good enough had plagued his youth. But Merlin was right – he had never known his mother. He had never experienced the loss of losing a parent.

“So you’ve been here… ten years?”

“Don’t insult me, some of us aren’t as old as you,” Merlin said. The teasing note was back in his voice and his head finally lifted as he stared at Arthur. He forced a smile and before Arthur knew what he was doing, he had softly returned it.

“Eight years,” Merlin admitted.

Arthur moved again, trying to get comfortable. “Why did you stay? It’s clear you don’t trust Nimueh.”

“I do!”

“The way I’m loyal to my father, then.” Arthur never intended to admit his doubts about the man. But as soon as he did so, a great weight lifted from his chest and he could breathe easier than he had been able to for years. He had come out here on the man’s bidding, to track down an errant albeit powerful sorcerer who had never done any harm to anyone. He should be training his men, defending Camelot, not running around like an errand boy.

Merlin grinned properly this time, and it was so blinding and brilliant that Arthur blinked in response.

“I knew it,” Merlin said softly. It was so quiet Arthur wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear the words or not. “Fine. Not as much as I should. But she gave me everything after…after what happened. It’s because of her I know how to use my gift, how to help people with it. And she is trying to keep us all safe, however twisted her methods.”

Arthur opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed it again. He didn’t think insulting the witch was a good idea, not when there was no telling who was listening. It surprised him that Merlin hadn’t defended his loyalty louder, just in case someone was listening who would report it. But then again, maybe he knew he was powerful enough to defend himself, regardless of what happened. Arthur wished he could share the man’s confidence.

“Why did you go through with it earlier?” Merlin suddenly said once it became obvious that Arthur wasn’t going to answer. The prince flushed, fighting to keep the blush from his cheeks and knowing that he was failing. He only hoped the dim lighting of the tent concealed his red cheeks.

“Haven’t you figured that out?”

“You wanted the knife, I get that. But you had it long before I…well, you know.”

Arthur chuckled, knowing he was not the only one flustered and being glad about that. But then he realised that Merlin was expecting an answer and he automatically tugged against his bindings again.

“Let’s talk about something else,” he said, not caring if he sounded like he was begging. Merlin had heard much worse from him so far, after all. But even as the warlock agreed, Arthur couldn’t help but think his embarrassment had given Merlin the answer.

He had gone through with it because he had wanted to. There was no simpler answer than that.

MMM

“We have to let him go.”

Merlin knew there was no easier way to deal with Nimueh than being direct. She had taught him that right from the start when she had bluntly told the traumatised child that unless he learnt how to control himself, he and anyone else he loved would suffer the same fate as his mother.

The witch glanced up at him and Merlin felt the familiar feel of her magic washing over him, detecting any threats. He knew Nimueh could monitor the thoughts of some, it was how she knew if they were ever going to be betrayed. But his own power meant that he was not easy prey and Merlin could conceal his thoughts without her being any the wiser. It was the only reason why she hadn’t detected how unhappy with the turn of events he truly was.

How Arthur had figured that out, Merlin had no idea. They had only experienced a few conversations and the prince already seemed to have the measure of him.

“Why?” Her voice was cool, controlled as ever. Merlin stood up straighter, knowing he had to be reasonable otherwise she would brush through his arguments.

“He isn’t as loyal to Uther as you think. As anyone thinks. He will see our way of thinking without the need for threats.”

“So you would wait for Arthur to take the throne?”

“If it came to that, yes. But perhaps he could persuade his father?”

“If he isn’t loyal, why would Uther listen?”

Merlin tried to come out with an answer and ended up running his fingers through his hair in distraction instead. He had no answer and as Nimueh elegantly rose to her feet, he knew that his mistress knew it.

“Even a whipped dog will do its master’s bidding, Merlin, for it knows no different. His fear of his father and his disapproval is far greater than his fear of us.”

“I’m not so sure,” Merlin began, thinking of the panic attack he had walked in on. He had intended to help, but then realised that Arthur was calming himself down and it might cause more harm than good if he interfered.

“He came out here after you, didn’t he? Even when you sent his men home with their tails between their legs. He attacked you knowing you were powerful, adamant that he was going to take you back to Camelot.”

“He didn’t realise that meant death.”

“Nonsense. He knows. He is naïve though, determined to think there is goodness in the king. Believe me, Merlin, the only shred of goodness Uther has is how he feels about Arthur. He fought too hard to bring an heir into this world, he won’t lose him.”

Merlin’s hand rose to his mouth as he made to gnaw on his nail. A spark of magic jumped from Nimueh, slapping his arm down and causing him to wince. Merlin didn’t complain though.

“It just feels wrong,” he admitted quietly. “Arthur’s a good man. I’m sure of it.”

“Don’t give your heart away as easily as your body, Merlin.”

Merlin could feel the heat steadily rising up his face as he stared at Nimueh. She held his gaze and he glanced away. She knew. There was only one thing her expression could mean: she knew he had slept with Arthur. What Merlin didn’t know, however, was what occasion she was referring to.

He didn’t know what to say. She would forgive him for slating his lust with an attractive unknown man. She wouldn’t forgive him for giving Arthur a chance to escape because he had indulged. He closed his eyes as he tried to cool himself down.

“That night means nothing, Merlin. He is your enemy now. Go to Mordred, get Arthur out of your system and when you can talk to me with a clear head, perhaps I will listen to your reasons. But wanting the man out of the camp because you made a mistake with him before this started is no reason at all. Now go.”

Merlin hurried out of the tent without arguing for once. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t result in him incriminating himself. She didn’t know what had happened in this very camp… yet. But Merlin knew it couldn’t happen again. If Nimueh got any inclination that he already didn’t consider Arthur to be his enemy, Merlin knew any chance he had to make Arthur’s stay more bearable would be lost.

“I heard you were looking for me.”

“I wasn’t.” Merlin stopped, his body rigid. He forced himself to keep his expression neutral as he turned to face Mordred. He should have known that Nimueh would summon the young man, believing her ward to be lustful and impatient.

“Don’t be like that,” Mordred said. He stepped closer, one hand coming up to trace Merlin’s face. “You’ve been gone for almost a week. I’ve missed you.”

Merlin brushed his hand away. “No, you missed that no one else would give you what you wanted.”

“But you will, won’t you?” Mordred stepped closer again, closing the distance between them. “For if you won’t, I’ll have to find my fun elsewhere. That prince is rather pretty, don’t you think?”

“Are you threatening him?”

“Why would I when you have made it more than clear that you will defend him? We both know I can’t win against you.” There was a pout on Mordred’s face. It was true. It only annoyed Merlin all the more that he had let himself get into this situation in the first place when he was stronger than Mordred.

“Come on then,” Merlin muttered, leading the way to the edge of the camp. If he was honest, dealing with Arthur had left him on edge, but he knew this was not going to compare. But for a reason he couldn’t explain, he had no intention of being the reason why Mordred turned his attention on Arthur. Some part of him felt ready to rise to protect Arthur and Merlin these feelings were dangerous. The man _was_ supposed to be his enemy.

But five minutes later, stripped bare and on his hand and knees, Merlin let his thoughts drift back to the prince. Mordred was rougher than usual and Merlin clenched his fingers in the dirt to stop himself from wincing from the pain. He deserved this. If he hadn’t given in, hadn’t let himself fuck the prince of Camelot, then he wouldn’t know any different and would still find pleasure in their rough coupling.

He _had_ bedded Arthur though. More than once. Even when the man had been secured by a chain, there hadn’t been aggressiveness or roughness. Not the way Mordred was pounding into him now. Merlin let his head hang, giving in to the sensations running through his body. He used magic to coax himself to hardness, knowing that Mordred wouldn’t notice. Deciding to risk it, he used magic to then push Mordred over the edge, finding that he didn’t want to be on his knees any longer.

As Mordred collapsed into a heap next to him, a lazy smile on his face, Merlin hugged his knees to his chest. Being with Arthur had done something to him. In a way, his life was sheltered; he had followed Nimueh’s commands since the day he arrived and Mordred had been the only man he had ever been with before Arthur. He hadn’t known any different and thought himself content.

Now, however, Merlin realised there was a whole world out there.

He chuckled as he stood, stretching before finding his clothes.

He was partially responsible for holding the prince of Camelot hostage, planning to use him to shape the fate of magic users across the whole of the kingdom. And the only thing Merlin was worrying about right now was whether he had missed out on the experiences of youth because he was too busy focusing on saving everyone.

Something told him it wasn’t exactly the sort of conversation he could have with his mistress. Nimueh would not react well to conflict.

The amusement faded from him as Merlin walked back to camp. Whatever his inner turmoil, he knew he would have to deal with it alone. The one person he felt would understand was the one person who would make it worse.

Somehow, he had to stay away from Arthur.


	8. Chapter 8

“I am such an idiot!”

Arthur looked up, instantly becoming still as Merlin walked into the tent. He had been trying to find a way out of the bindings for the last few hours, but the ropes were holding and Arthur knew he was no closer to freeing himself than when he had first been secured here. At least they hadn’t re-gagged him.

“I could have told you that,” Arthur muttered, shifting into a more comfortable position. He didn’t want Merlin to realise what he had been doing, in case any part of the rope was loose and Merlin secured it. Merlin blinked, looking around. It was as if he hadn’t meant to come here.

“And now I’m even more of an idiot,” he muttered. He sat down, hugging his knees to his chest. Arthur watched him, not understanding.

“What do you want, Merlin?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin said. “I hadn’t even meant to come here.”

“I guessed that much.” Arthur watched him critically, hiding that Merlin had mirrored his very thought. Although Merlin physically looked fine (gorgeous, in fact, but Arthur ignored that voice), there was something in his expression that hinted towards a troubled mind. Merlin’s gaze was locked on the ground and Arthur wondered if anyone else saw through his charming smile. After all, the events that had led Merlin to this place had hardly been cheerful – Arthur wondered if Merlin’s past plagued him as often as Arthur’s did.

“Were you limping?” Arthur said. Merlin’s head shot up and he held Arthur’s gaze steadily, despite a slight flush of colour working its way across his cheeks.

“No,” Merlin said, denial in his voice. But he couldn’t hold Arthur’s gaze and the prince knew he was lying.

“It’s Mordred, isn’t it? The one who won’t let you top. He’s fucked you again.”

“You make that sound like such a crime. What if I wanted it?”

“Did you?”

“What do you care?”

Arthur shook his head. He didn’t care. It made no difference to him who Merlin spread his legs for. The man had come to Arthur readily enough, maybe he was like that with anyone. But for some reason, Arthur couldn’t stop himself.

“If you don’t like it, why do you let him? And don’t say you do, you as good as admitted it when you…we… I mean…”

“Is the great Prince of Camelot lost for words? I’m not surprised, your mouth can’t have too many talents, after all, and I can name at least one other you excel at.”

This time, it was Arthur’s turn to flush. He turned his head away and felt shame creep up on him. No one had ever spoken to him like that. No one would dare, not even the men he paid.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were unexpected and Arthur jerked. He stared at Merlin, who gazed back in earnest.

“That was cruel and I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I shouldn’t be here, yet I can’t stay away. I should hate you, but… I just can’t see you as my enemy.”

“Then let me go. Haven’t you learnt enough about my father to know he won’t care?”

“My mistress thinks otherwise. She thinks you’re the only one he does care about.”

“Oh he cares so much,” Arthur scoffed, turning away again. He denied it was to hide the tears pricking his eyes. He hated feeling this helpless. “He cares so much he used to hit me every time I wasn’t good enough.”

“Arthur-,”

“Save it, Merlin. Go and have your identity crisis with someone else, I’m trying to escape.”

Arthur heard Merlin climb to his feet and was grateful the man didn’t try and say anything else. He was breaking through Arthur’s mental barriers in a way no one ever had before and if Arthur was honest, it was scaring him. But as Merlin moved, Arthur heard a hiss of pain.

“You shouldn’t let him treat you like that,” he said, making sure he didn’t look at Merlin.

“It’s hardly your place to judge.” Merlin’s voice was cold but Arthur knew he deserved it. “He’s my lover.”

“No, he isn’t.” Arthur couldn’t stop himself. He twisted back, staring straight at Merlin. He met the man’s eyes and Merlin didn’t seem to be able to look away. “If he was your lover, then he would care what you want. You’re nothing more than a body to him.”

The worst part was, Arthur knew this because of it was true of him too. He paid the men to do what he wanted, he didn’t care what _they_ wanted. And they never complained either.

“And I’m more to you, is that what you’re saying, Arthur? That you care when Mordred doesn’t.”

“I shouldn’t,” Arthur whispered. He knew he should deny it. But he couldn’t. Merlin had somehow got under his skin in the couple of days Arthur had known him, despite them spending that whole time either threatening or fucking each other. Merlin was seeing him in a way Arthur had never experienced before, despite spending his life under the scrutiny of the most powerful men in the kingdom.

“Arthur.” Merlin looked as if he didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t leave though, but came closer, kneeling hesitantly in front of the prince. Arthur smirked and tried to shrug, but his hands being tied prevented it from working.

“I’m not going to do anything this time, I can’t. I’m a little tied up.”

Merlin laughed, but it was a sad sound. Very tentatively, his hand reached out and his fingers traced Arthur’s jaw. The touch was gentle and before Arthur knew what he was doing, he had closed his eyes.

“What are you doing to me?” Merlin breathed and Arthur laughed even with his eyes shut.

“You’re the one who has me tied up and at your mercy.”

“I tried to get her to release you-,”

“Hey,” Arthur said softly. He opened his eyes and turned to look at Merlin. “It’s not your role to protect me. You’re the one who brought me in, remember?”

“I should have let you go.” Unless Arthur was mistaken, there were unshed tears in Merlin’s eyes. Arthur shifted position, breaking the contact between them but allowing himself to look at Merlin properly.

“You didn’t have a choice. You were following orders. I did the same thing, remember?”

“Yeah, but you’re a prat.”

Arthur stared at Merlin for a long moment before he caught sight of the teasing smile twitching at the corner of the man’s lips. He rolled his eyes.

“Idiot.”

Merlin might have been trying to break the tension, but Arthur couldn’t deny the air felt thick between them. He swallowed.

“What happens now?”

“Now?” Merlin’s gaze was locked on him and Arthur felt himself growing warm under the heat of it. “Now I think I would like to kiss you.”

Arthur didn’t say anything; he just rose an eyebrow. Merlin took that as the invitation he needed, crawling forward. Arthur parted his legs to let Merlin get closer and tried not to think about how many times he had done this for his enemy so far. But Merlin didn’t seem to notice, placing a gentle hand on Arthur’s chest. Arthur was sure he would feel how heart his heart was thudding. Slowly, Merlin leant forward and brushed his lips against Arthur’s before drawing back. Then he did it again and this time, Arthur kissed him back.

It didn’t last. Arthur could only imagine the sort of trouble Merlin would be in if anyone saw them. While he didn’t want to admit it, Arthur felt safe with Merlin around and didn’t want the warlock of be forbidden for coming here.

But just as Merlin drew back, Arthur’s stomach rumbled. He flushed again and glanced away, embarrassed. Merlin grinned.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Arthur shrugged awkwardly. Merlin had attempted to bring him food before but Arthur had distracted them both. He hadn’t stopped to eat, too intent on escaping before Merlin woke up. Merlin stood, his hand cupping Arthur’s cheek for a moment.

“I’ll get you something,” he promised, his fingertips dragging. Arthur leant back against the post as Merlin moved to the exit, more confused than he had ever been in his life. Merlin looked back when he reached the tent flap.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he quipped before leaving. Arthur rolled his eyes despite no one being there to see it and settled himself into a more comfortable position. He knew he had to get out of here. It wasn’t his life he was worried about anymore; it was his heart.

But for now, all Arthur could do was sit there and wait for Merlin to bring him something to eat. He had to build his strength before he would be able to escape, especially as he didn’t know how far from Camelot he was.

He gave up trying to deny that he hoped Merlin would stay after Arthur had eaten. The prince was bored and at least with Merlin there, he didn’t feel like he was about to be killed.

MMM

“Where’s Merlin?”

Every muscle was tense and Arthur watched with calculating eyes as Mordred walked in with a plate of food in his hands. Arthur had lost track of how long he had been here for, but he guessed it had to be at least three days. Two guards untied him and allowed him to stretch his legs and relieve himself twice a day before they rebound him to the post. Arthur didn’t know what was taking so long and Merlin hadn’t told him anything, despite the fact they had spent hours talking. With more than one kiss thrown in each time.

But seeing Mordred there heightened Arthur’s sense of danger. He had been complacent, allowing himself to be lulled into a false sense of security. His hands tensed into fists behind the post.

“He’s sleeping,” Mordred said. There was a curl to his lip that made Arthur snarl. He didn’t need to ask to know what they had been doing before falling asleep. When Mordred’s smirk widened, Arthur schooled his expression into one of indifference. Just because Merlin had spent time with him hardly meant that he was going to leave Mordred.

“So I thought I would be helpful,” Mordred continued. “We got off on the wrong foot and I want to apologise for that.”

Arthur stared. He suspected a trap, but couldn’t work out which angle it was coming from. Mordred set the plate of food down, out of Arthur’s reach should he kick out. Then he straightened up and simply stood there, staring down at the prince. Eventually, he sighed.

“I don’t get it. You’re attractive, but you’re weak. You fear everything you don’t understand and you think violence is the answer to everything.”

“And you don’t?” Arthur retorted, his heart thudding hard. His gaze slipped to the tent and he wondered if anyone was close enough if he should call for help. Somehow, he doubted it.

“Trickery and deception is so much easier,” Mordred said with a shrug, sounding completely unashamed. “Why use violence when you can use blackmail.”

“What do you want?” Arthur asked. He knew they were getting closer to the issue at hand now. Mordred crouched in front of him, but it didn’t escape Arthur’s notice he remained out of reach. He might claim Arthur was weak, but he was still cautious. It gave Arthur confidence.

“To do a deal.”

“The only deal I’m interested in is one that allows me to walk out of here without a curse on my head.” Arthur had picked up enough to know that Merlin was the only one with any chance of getting through to Nimueh. Mordred had neither the power nor the influence to release him.

“So you’re not hungry then?”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

Mordred lunged forward, grabbing Arthur’s chin. “I know you fucked Merlin.”

Knowing he had to stay in control of the situation, Arthur smirked and lifted an eyebrow.

“Who said it was that way around?” He said casually. Mordred snarled, letting go again. He backed off, but Arthur could almost feel the fury pulsing from the young man.

“I knew it. I knew something had changed with him.”

“And you didn’t think to just ask him?”

“Oh no.” Mordred turned to face him and Arthur knew he wasn’t fast enough to hide his shudder. “He is never going to know that I know.”

“How can you be sure? What’s to stop me from telling him?” Arthur sounded more confident than he felt. He was tied to a post and Mordred had magic. There were plenty of things that could stop him from telling Merlin.

“If you do, it will lead to a confrontation. You must have realised by now Merlin is a terrible liar. A confrontation means that Nimueh will find out and his mistress is not the most forgiving.”

Arthur swallowed. He didn’t know what to say. As much as he didn’t want Mordred to control anything he did or said, he also knew he was telling the truth. The scene would play out just as Mordred had described. Arthur knew if Nimueh knew, Merlin wouldn’t be allowed back here. He needed Merlin for his own protection.

At least, it was easier telling himself that than admitting he didn’t want anything to happen to the warlock because of him.

“What do you want from me?” Arthur repeated his earlier question. There was no way holding that over Arthur was all Mordred had in mind. It didn’t explain his comment about whether Arthur was hungry or not for one thing.

“Merlin has never strayed before even though temptation has been dangled in front of him. Something about you has drawn him away from me.” Bitterness lined Mordred’s tone and Arthur suspected that although he had been right about Mordred caring for Merlin, the man was possessive if nothing else. “So there must be something about you that has turned his head.”

Arthur involuntarily drew backwards, straining against the ropes. He didn’t like where this was going.

“And I want a piece of whatever it is.”

“If you think I will so much as-,”

“Oh you will. As I’ve convinced Nimueh I want to understand the situation better and she has granted permission that I will bring you your meals now. So, you can eat. If….” Mordred broke off, beginning to unlace his breeches. “You sing for your supper.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Arthur knew that Mordred was serious. He tugged free his laces and loosened the top of his breeches.

“You suck, you eat. It’s simple.”

“Go to hell.”

“You would rather starve?”

“You need to ask?” Arthur made sure his contempt showed on his face. Mordred stalked closer, grabbing him by the hair and tilting his head back. Arthur let him, barely feeling the pain. He had been through a lot worse. Mordred slipped a finger into his mouth, trying to force Arthur to lower his jaw. With a sneer on his face, Arthur bit down as hard as he could.

Mordred’s punch snapped his head back, slamming it against the post and causing him to see stars. Arthur blinked rapidly, trying to remain focused. He knew if he lost consciousness, Mordred would take advantage. Locking his eyes on Mordred, he saw the man was cradling his bleeding finger, hatred on his face.

“Come near me again and I’ll bite other things,” Arthur growled.

“You’ll see things differently once you’ve starved for three days. You’ll be begging to suck my cock then.”

“What’s to stop me from telling someone? Anyone? Merlin, even.”

“Oh go ahead, tell him. But if you breathe so much as a word, I’ll take it out on him. I might not have his power, but I own his body and he’s never once asked me to stop, even when I made him scream.”

“What makes you think I care what happens to him? He brought me here, he’s responsible for this.”

“You care,” Mordred said. He tried to lace himself up but couldn’t with a bleeding hand. He eventually resorted to magic and Arthur felt grim satisfaction in knowing he must have bitten hard. “Don’t deny it, you went pale when I said that. Think about it. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Mordred picked up the plate, tipped out the food and stamped on it. With a flicker of magic, he buried it in the dirt and stalked out.

As soon as he was gone, Arthur let out a few rapid, shaking breaths and tried to stop himself from shaking. He honestly hadn’t expected his efforts to work to make Mordred leave. Using the same method he used to stave off a panic attack, he forced himself to calm down. He had to think about this rationally.

If he wanted to escape, he needed his strength. But his pride wouldn’t let him bow to Mordred’s wishes, even if he had once dreamed of being on the giving end rather than always receiving. He would rather starve and hope that either someone noticed or that Nimueh would realise her plan wouldn’t work if her prisoner was dead.

But Arthur knew Mordred was right. He wouldn’t tell Merlin. This was his problem and he was not going to risk putting the warlock in harm’s way. There was no point denying it, he did care. He had no idea what it meant, nor had he ever felt like this before. He would starve and maintain his pride, but he was going to make damn sure that Mordred didn’t take it out on Merlin because of him.

“Fucking hell,” Arthur breathed, leaning his head back on the post and letting the dizziness overwhelm him for a moment. He knew he had a bad feeling about the mission when the knights had been forced to turn back one at a time. He never would have guessed where it would lead.


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur lost track of time. All he knew was the constant hunger that gnawed at him. Days must have passed since he had stopped concentrating on anything and just sat there in a daze. He hadn’t given in, but deep down, he knew he would have to. If he didn’t eat, he had no chance of getting out of the situation.

“Are you alright?” Merlin sounded concerned and Arthur bit his cheek to force himself to concentrate. Merlin was staring down at him, worry etched into his features. Although the warlock had still been visiting him, he never brought food. Whatever deal Mordred had done with Nimueh, it ensured he was the only one allowed to feed Arthur. But although Merlin looked worried, Arthur knew the man didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell that he was being starved.

“Fine.” The word was heavy and bitter tasting on his tongue. Common sense screamed at him for being a fool. He should tell Merlin! Why did he care if Mordred made good on his threat? Merlin had powerful magic, it wasn’t Arthur’s fault if he didn’t defend himself from his own lover. Merlin would put a stop to it all, maybe even using Arthur’s treatment as a way of securing his release.

But Arthur didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Every time he tried, the words caught in his throat. Despite his power, there was something vulnerable and innocent about Merlin, despite what they had done together. Arthur wanted to protect that, despite knowing it was costing him his strength.

“Arthur, you know-,” Merlin broke himself off and came closer, crouching down in front of him. “You know it’s alright to be scared,” he continued softly. Arthur stared at him. Merlin didn’t meet his eye, but continued.

“I understand. This is a frightening situation for you. But it’s alright to admit it, even just to me.”

“You’re the last person I can admit it to,” Arthur muttered, not thinking about what he was saying. He saw the flash of hurt over Merlin’s expression, but was too detached from the situation to think about what it meant. He felt like he was floating, that only his body was tied down while his soul drifted off. Maybe it would return back to Camelot while he sat here, an empty shell…

“I’ve never given you a reason to trust me, I know. I just thought….”

“Thought what?” Arthur bit his lip again, using the sharp pain to focus himself. “You fucked me. That doesn’t mean you own me, or that I owe you anything. Anyway, you’re wrong. I’m not afraid.”

He turned away as best as he could despite his position. This time, he understood completely the hurt on Merlin’s face and kept his head turned away as the warlock left. As soon as Merlin had gone, Arthur sagged, ragged gasps coming from him as tears slipped down his face. He didn’t want to hurt Merlin, but it was easier than lying to him.

Merlin was wrong; he wasn’t afraid. He was terrified. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate and knew if he was allowed to stand up, he wouldn’t have managed it. Unless Mordred relented, Arthur knew he was going to have to give in. He had to get out of here, even if that meant sacrificing his pride and self-respect in the process.

But it wasn’t just fear that caused him to bring his knees up to his chest so he could rest his head on them awkwardly. It was self-hatred. He had no idea why he cared about Merlin or how the man had managed to get under his skin. But he had and because of that, Arthur refused to cave and tell someone what Mordred was doing.

Pulling himself together, Arthur lashed out with his feet, although there was nothing in reach to kick. He fought violently against the post, against the ropes and against his entire situation. He had no idea how he remained conscious, but Arthur’s desperation to be free lent him strength and he fought with everything he had and more.

“Arthur, stop!” It was Merlin’s voice, but Arthur knew he hadn’t returned alone. A group of people were clustered in the entrance to the tent. Arthur managed to get his feet under him and lurched upwards, only for the world to spin sharply. With a groan, he sunk back down again as his legs gave way. He could feel blood beginning to drip from his wrists and logic told him the rope must be weakening if he had put that much force behind it.

“Please.” Merlin walked closer, crouching down in front of him and resting a hand on Arthur’s heaving chest. “Please stop, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Let me go!” Arthur roared, his shout so loud that Merlin overbalanced in surprise. Arthur was breathing heavily, spots flickering in his vision. Merlin looked at him, but there was no fear in his expression. Arthur knew his shout would have made the knights flinch, but here, it did nothing. Why would it, even the smallest child was more powerful than him right now.

“Get Nimueh,” Merlin addressed someone over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the prince. “Calm down, you’re safe here.”

“Safe? I’ve been tied up since I got here. If I was safe, you would have let me go!”

“The timing isn’t right,” Merlin said. There was a catch in his voice and Arthur focused through the haze his mind had descended into. Merlin didn’t meet his eyes and Arthur suddenly knew why he had been held prisoner for so long.

“He hasn’t agreed,” he muttered. Merlin met his gaze briefly before looking away again and Arthur knew he was right. All the planning about what they were going to do to make his father agree and the king had refused to cave despite his own heir being missing.

For some reason, Arthur found it hilarious. Nimueh had underestimated his father a lot if she had honestly believed he would care what happened to Arthur. He probably thought his son deserved it for getting caught in the first place. He would let his only son and heir die rather than give in on his stance about magic.

Realising that no aid was coming from Camelot, Arthur threw his head back and laughed. It was a hollow and empty sound. Merlin looked uncertain and began to back off a little and Arthur couldn’t blame him. If he was honest, he was scaring himself, yet he couldn’t stop laughing despite the tears flooding down his cheeks and his breath catching in his chest. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air.

A rustle at the entrance made him look up, finally swallowing down a gulp of air. Nimueh was standing there, looking as imposing as ever as she stared down at him. Everyone had left but Merlin and Arthur shakily caught his breath. Tears still pricked at his eyes, but this time, Arthur felt a genuine sadness. His father didn’t care.

“Please let me go,” he whispered. Merlin shifted but Nimueh shook her head and the warlock didn’t come any closer. She did though, crouching in front of Arthur and running her hand over the top of his head. It would have been a motherly gesture if she wasn’t the one responsible for all of this.

“You know we can’t, Arthur,” she said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“He won’t agree. He doesn’t care!”

“He’ll come around,” Nimueh murmured. “But you have to remain calm otherwise you are only going to hurt yourself.”

She straightened up and Arthur stared up at her in contempt. He refused to be the victim. Locking his legs, he lurched upright again. His wrists bound the other side of the pole was the only thing that stopped him from falling. He drew himself upright until he was looking Nimueh in the eye.

“I’m going to get out of here,” he said. “Then I’m going to kill you.”

He was fully aware that, being half-starved, he wasn’t going anywhere. But he wasn’t going to let her think he was becoming complacent. Nimueh didn’t look worried though. She cupped his cheek with a gloved hand, forcing Arthur to meet her gaze.

“Of course you are. You truly are your father’s son,” she murmured patronisingly. Arthur had no idea what the next word that left her mouth was – it wasn’t in a language he knew. But he did see her eyes flash gold and an extreme lethargy settled over him. He sunk back to the floor, blinking rapidly as he tried to stay away. A flash of colour indicated Nimueh was leaving, but Arthur couldn’t find the strength to lift his head again.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice sounded distance even as Arthur felt his breathing deepen. Something warm was placed over him and he was vaguely aware of Merlin tucking the blanket around him.

Then Arthur fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

MMM

Merlin balanced the pot of water against his hip as he glanced at Arthur’s prison. He sighed, feeling an incredible sadness for the prisoner. Arthur had guessed right; Uther had refused to give despite being given evidence that his son was being held hostage and would be killed unless he complied. Part of Merlin had been frightened by Arthur’s rage but he knew the only person the prince would ever be able to hurt was himself. Merlin knew he would have gone crazy being kept tied up like that for so long and only hoped that Arthur was calmer now he had woken up from Nimueh’s spell.

He shook his head and forced himself to look away. He had things to do. He couldn’t spend his whole time either worrying or thinking about Arthur, despite that seeming to be the case these days. As he saw Mordred approaching with a plate of food, Merlin shook himself and hurried off. Something was going on with Mordred at the moment; he seemed angrier than ever. Merlin had managed to keep out of his way, not wanting the fight that would emerge if he said no. It was easier just to make sure Mordred couldn’t find him.

He returned to his own tent and pulled out some shirts that needed mending. He wondered how amused Arthur would be if he saw these people weren’t his enemies, just ones trying to get through everyday life without the comforts of a castle and servants on hand. Most people here didn’t know why the Crown Prince of Camelot was being held hostage – Nimueh said it was better to be ignorant than have their hopes raised only to be dashed.

As he struggled to thread the needle, Merlin knew that – as one of the few that did know what was going on – he would be one of the people Arthur would hate. There had been such conviction in his eyes when he had threatened to kill Nimueh that Merlin realised he might have been wrong about Arthur all this time. He might be more reasonable than his father, but he had been raised a warrior. His talks with Arthur and getting to know the prince meant Merlin had forgotten how dangerous the man could be.

“Merlin!”

The shout made him wince and Merlin hunched over his shirt. He knew Mordred would find him – the tent would be the first place the other man would look. But that didn’t mean Merlin was going to make it easy for him and he had just managed to thread the needle when the tent flap was pulled back.

“I need your help.”

Merlin looked at Mordred and instantly knew something was wrong. Mordred looked frightened, his eyes wide.

“What is it?”

“It’s the prisoner,” Mordred said. Merlin dropped everything and pushed past Mordred. He walked fast, almost running, as he strode to Arthur’s tent. Pushing back the flap, he knew instantly what Mordred was referring to. Arthur didn’t appear to be conscious, but his breathing was rapid and shallow. Merlin approached, resting a hand on Arthur’s forehead before jerking back in surprise. He was burning up.

“Get Freya,” he ordered, knowing the healer was the only one who would truly be able to help Arthur. “Bring her to my tent.”

He slashed his hand at the ropes holding Arthur’s wrists and caught the prince as he sagged forward. Merlin knew this wasn’t a pretence, Arthur was dangerously ill. Merlin couldn’t understand why unless his fight the day before had worn him out more than Merlin realised was possible. Grabbing Arthur under the shoulders, he awkwardly began dragging him out of the tent and back to his own. Despite the dead weight being too much for him if it wasn’t for the use of magic, Merlin knew something was wrong. He just couldn’t put his finger on what.

He reached his tent at the same time as Freya. Mordred instantly helped him get Arthur inside and onto Merlin’s bedroll. Freya crouched over him, feeling his temperature, peering in his eyes and generally trying to assess him the best she could.

“It’s a fever,” she announced, turning to face Merlin. To his surprise, fury was etched into her usually calm face. “One he should be able to fight off if he hadn’t been starved!”

“What?” He stepped forward, staring at Arthur’s prone form. He _knew_ something hadn’t been right and staring at Arthur now, he could see the jaunt angles of his cheekbones and the way his shirt seemed to be sagging off him. Merlin couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before, but Arthur had been in chainmail on the journey here and bound to a post for the rest of the time.

“Mordred,” he growled, making to turn on his heel. Freya stopped him with a gentle hand.

“Not now, Merlin. From what I hear, Arthur trusts you more than anyone here. You’ll need to help me get some fluid into him.”

Merlin was torn between confronting Mordred and helping Arthur. He tucked his anger away for later and nodded. Freya poured out a small cup of water and mixed some herbs in, explaining how it would help bring his temperature down. Her own anger seemed to have disappeared in the face of Merlin’s and she passed the beaker over.

“Hold it to his lips and trickle a little in,” she advised. Merlin nodded, crouching down next to Arthur. Then he shifted until the prince’s head was resting on his lap. Gently stroking Arthur’s hair, he placed the cup against lips. To his surprise, Arthur’s head jerked away. Merlin tried again with the same result. As he made to try a third time – he knew Arthur had to drink even if the prince was being stubborn – he realised Arthur was mumbling something. Merlin lent closer.

“Don’t want to…won’t…no….won’t…”

The words kept repeating themselves. Merlin kept stroking Arthur’s hair but the bottle was forgotten by his side as he tried to work out what Arthur was talking about. Was he lucid and didn’t want the water? Or was there something else?

It hit Merlin like a physical blow and the tent rippled with his anger. He jumped to his feet and this time, Freya didn’t try and stop him. Stalking out, Merlin caught sight of Mordred talking to Gilli. He lifted his hand, clenched it into a fist and used magic to throw Mordred into a tree. Keeping his palm outstretched, Merlin kept Mordred pinned there as he moved closer, eyes burning.

“How is-,”

“What did you do?” Merlin thundered, pressing Mordred harder against the tree. He didn’t notice Gilli running off. Mordred turned pale and Merlin instantly knew he was right. “You starved and raped him!”

“No!” Mordred struggled against the magic but could do nothing. “I never touched him, I swear. I just… I made him a deal, alright? It’s not my fault he was too proud to give in.”

“You…” Merlin couldn’t think of a word bad enough. He shoved his hand forward and Mordred gasped as the pressure increased ten-fold.

“Merlin, enough.” Nimueh’s voice was calm as the witch strode onto the scene but Merlin shook his head. She didn’t look surprised and Merlin wondered if she knew what Mordred had been doing.

“He deserves it,” he snarled. He wanted to constrict the magic further, but before he could do so, a blast of air caught him in the chest and sent him flying backwards. His hold on Mordred was broken. Merlin leapt to his feet, hand rising again only to see the gold burning in Nimueh’s eyes. Concentrating, Merlin could feel her power sparking in the air.

“Do not test me, Merlin,” she said quietly. Merlin wanted to, he wanted to prove that he was stronger than her and he was not going to let anyone harm Arthur. But he was fully aware that Mordred would turn on him while he battled Nimueh and Merlin knew he didn’t have the power to take them both. He needed to be alive if he wanted to keep Arthur safe.

“If he comes anywhere near me or Arthur, I’ll kill him.” Merlin spoke simply, looking straight at Nimueh as he did so. She nodded, her magic faded away. Merlin knew she knew not to doubt him. When it came to the treatment of others, Merlin lost all sense and reason. What had happened to his mother meant he never wanted anyone to suffer in that way again.

He turned on his heel but had only taken a step when Mordred called him back. Merlin didn’t turn but paused.

“I’m sorry,” Mordred said. “I wanted what you had and I’m sorry.”

Merlin walked off without a backwards glance. But he twisted his hand subtly in front of him and felt a grim satisfaction when Mordred was yanked off his feet by an invisible force with a startled yelp. He managed to calm himself down though, knowing Freya wouldn’t let him back in while he was angry.

Crouching beside Arthur again, Merlin sighed.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”


	10. Chapter 10

“Why not use magic?” Merlin stared at Freya, not realising his hand was still resting on Arthur’s forehead. He wasn’t feeling the man’s temperature anymore, but was gently brushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead, trying to calm the fevered dreams plaguing the prince. Arthur’s whole body was twitching but he didn’t move away from Merlin’s touch. The warlock knew it meant nothing, but it made him feel warm inside.

“I can’t.” Freya looked exhausted and Merlin knew he was being unreasonable. But they had been trying to break Arthur’s fever for three days and if anything, he seemed to be getting worse, not better.

“Why not?”

“You know how a body reacts if it isn’t used to magic?” Merlin nodded. Arthur would see the magic as a threat and try and fight it off before he recognised it as a healing spell. Freya glanced away.

“Nimueh wants to curse him. I want him to keep that fight for her magic, not mine.”

Merlin gaped at her. He had never considered that. But the body only fought magic the first time it recognised the threat. Nimueh putting him to sleep had happened too quickly for Arthur to fight, not to mention he had been weak and exhausted. But unconscious, his body would react instinctively to try and stop Freya’s power from healing him. Merlin often forgot that not everyone was as powerful as him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I didn’t mean-,”

“I know.” Freya smiled and Merlin knew he was forgiven. “You love him, it’s understandable.”

“I do not!”

Freya gave him a long look. Merlin held her gaze but could feel the colour blooming across his cheeks. He didn’t love Arthur…

_Did he?_

He couldn’t deny the rage and concern he had felt when he had realised Arthur’s condition was worse than it should be. He couldn’t lie and pretend he hadn’t spent every moment either thinking about the man or being with him. He also couldn’t deny the warmth he felt when they had slept together was far greater than anything he had ever felt with Mordred.

Was this what love was? And if it was, what on earth was Merlin supposed to do? Arthur was his enemy!

Deep down, Merlin knew he had never considered the prince of Camelot to be his opponent.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” Freya’s voice was sharp and Merlin jumped guiltily. It was only then he noticed that magic had been trickling from him and into Arthur. Leaping back, Merlin bit his lip as Freya hurried forward. If Arthur reacted to his magic, Merlin knew he could be in even more danger…

“It’s working.” Freya’s voice was stunned as she carefully examined her patient. Merlin didn’t dare move closer – he hadn’t realised his magic was acting on its own accord. It hadn’t done that for years, not since Nimueh had taught him how to control his power rather than the other way around. Merlin stared at his hand before it clenched into a fist. Arthur had done this; he had got under his skin someway and even his magic wanted to protect him.

Freya grabbed his hand and yanked him closer. “Whatever you were doing, continue.”

“But I don’t-,” Merlin gave up protesting he didn’t know what he had done. Instead, he sat by Arthur’s side and softly put his hand on the man’s forehead again. He felt the magic this time, felt the healing vibes channelling through him and into the unconscious prince. Merlin thought it was his imagination that Arthur relaxed a little. He glanced at Freya and knew by the smile on her face that it was real.

“He’ll be okay now,” Freya murmured softly. She leant over and dropped a kiss on Merlin’s head. “Stay with him and he’ll be just fine. You both will.”

She turned and left before Merlin could ask what she meant. But when the tent flap had safely dropped behind her and Merlin used his magic to make sure no one could overhear them, he shuffled closer.

“You hear that,” he told Arthur. “You’re going to be just fine. So I would really appreciate it if you woke up so I no longer had to worry about you. Not that I am worried, I mean, you’re a prince, you’re hardly going to let a fever beat you. And on that note… You should have told me about Mordred. He’s a jerk and an idiot but he’s never…”

“Merlin?”

“Yes?” Merlin glanced down, then realised what he had just done. “Arthur!”

“Idiot,” Arthur muttered, his voice weak and hoarse but his eyes open. Merlin made to stand.

“I’ll get Freya.”

“No.”        

Merlin wasn’t sure how aware Arthur was. His eyes were unfocused but he was only looking at Merlin, not taking in his surroundings. Merlin wondered if he even realised that he was no longer tied to the post.

“Stay,” Arthur whispered, his eyes flickering shut again. Merlin stared at him as Arthur’s breathing evened out before he smiled gently and moved even closer.

“Always,” he murmured, kissing Arthur’s forehead gently. Maybe Freya was right and Merlin was falling in love with the one person who would hate him when he was properly lucid. But if Arthur _was_ going to hate him when he woke up, then Merlin wasn’t going to miss this chance.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he said softly, “I promise.”

Swinging his legs up on the bed, Merlin kept his hand on Arthur and the magic filtering through. He meant it; he would spend as long as it took to make sure the prince recovered from this. He didn’t know what would happen next, but he knew that he wasn’t letting Mordred anywhere near Arthur. Nor was he letting Nimueh tie him back up again, not when their plan was unravelling around them. Until Uther relented and agreed to listen to their terms, Arthur was stuck here. Merlin intended to make sure he survived.

Arthur slept fitfully the rest of that night. Merlin managed to coax him to drink every time the prince stirred, but Arthur always fell back asleep before Merlin could persuade him to eat. He himself didn’t dare close his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was concerned over Mordred or whether Arthur would disappear if he let sleep claim him. Arthur wasn’t well enough to escape and Merlin wasn’t going to let him be hurt due to his own stupidity. They had to bide their time.

His thoughts worried him. He was thinking of escape routes; things he could do to give Arthur a chance to slip away. He should be worrying about what would happen now that Uther wasn’t agreeing to their terms. He was distracted and irritable when the sun filtered through the tent and Arthur’s eyes opened again. They were clear this time, the last of the fever having left him. Merlin helped him sit up.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pushing the pillow into position so Arthur could lean back.

“Hungry,” the prince admitted, avoiding Merlin’s eyes. Merlin didn’t react though – Arthur needed to get his strength back first. He went to the tent entrance and asked the first person he saw to fetch enough food for two. With the promise of a magic trick – Merlin might have been Nimueh’s ward, but that didn’t give him the right to tell others what to do – he returned to Arthur’s side.

“You look awful,” he said bluntly. The fever had left Arthur looking gaunt and ill and Merlin couldn’t believe he hadn’t notice Arthur had been losing weight. He told himself it was because the man had been sitting down, but he knew that was no excuse. He should have known better than to trust Mordred genuinely wanted to get to know Arthur better and not be seen as the bad guy.

“You don’t exactly look gorgeous.”

Merlin blinked. “Does that mean there has been a time when you thought I did look gorgeous?”

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur didn’t meet his eyes as Merlin came to sit back down. He kept looking towards the tent flap instead.

“Don’t, Arthur,” Merlin said gently. “You’re not strong enough to run. Don’t make it harder, please.”

“Why do you care?”

Merlin closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. He knew Arthur’s softness from before was because he was ill. Even if his feelings were genuine, Arthur clearly wasn’t prepared to let his guard down. After what Mordred had done, Merlin couldn’t blame him.

“I just sat by your side for three days willing you to live. My magic reacted instinctively to you, something that hasn’t happened for years. I care because I feel connected to you in a way I can’t explain.”

Merlin didn’t know why he said it. But he felt being honest with Arthur was the best thing, especially as he was confused about what he was feeling. Arthur didn’t say anything, but Merlin saw the look on his face before he turned away and knew it was because he didn’t know what to say.

They sat in an awkward silence until a young girl with the food arrived. She smiled at Merlin but her eyes never left Arthur and Merlin had to chase her out of the tent in the end. He had no idea whether she was terrified of Arthur or falling in love with him. If he was honest, Merlin was asking himself the same thing, but he said nothing as he handed Arthur a plate of food.

Arthur groaned out loud as he stuffed his face and Merlin couldn’t help but smile at the look of bliss on the man’s face. He picked at his own, suddenly realising he wasn’t hungry as he watched Arthur desperately inhale the food.

“No one will take it away again,” Merlin said quietly, worried the man would make himself sick. “You have my word.”

Arthur paused, swallowing hard before looking at Merlin. His eyes dropped and Merlin saw his hand give an involuntary tremble.

“He told you?”

“No. I figured it out and tried to use a tree to kill him until Nimueh stopped me.” Merlin kept his voice light. He didn’t know exactly what had happened between Arthur and Mordred, he could only guess. If Arthur didn’t want to talk about it, then Merlin wasn’t going to force him. “He said he didn’t touch you though. Arthur, is that true? If it’s not, so help me, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Arthur’s voice wasn’t accusing this time. It was soft, hopeful and sincere and when Merlin looked over, Arthur held his gaze.

“I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

Their eyes remained locked for a moment, but then Arthur looked away and unless Merlin was mistaken, tears were building.

“Hey,” Merlin shifted closer. “I mean it, I’ll protect you. You’re safe here.”

“It’s not that,” Arthur muttered. Merlin wasn’t surprised when he kept his head turned. Arthur didn’t seem like the type of man to let another see him cry. “It’s just…”

“What?” Merlin prompted softly when Arthur was quiet. The prince took a deep breath.

“The last time my father struck me, I swore that no man would ever make me feel that vulnerable again. I trained every hour of every day since then to be the best warrior I can be, to never again experience that weakness. And now…”

He trailed off and Merlin dared rest his hand over Arthur’s. Arthur remained tense, but he didn’t shrug him off. Merlin wondered how differently this conversation would have played out if Arthur wasn’t recovering from both a fever and several days without food.

“I won’t let Mordred near you.”

“Not Mordred.” Arthur’s head jerked around until he met Merlin’s eyes. “You.”

“Me? What did I do? Apart from bring you here, which by the way was totally not my fault because otherwise you would have taken me to Camelot and your father would have chopped my head off and…”

“I heard what that girl said.”

Merlin’s mouth snapped shut and he stared at Arthur. What had Freya said? Nothing incriminating apart from wanting Arthur to be able to fight back later. Nothing apart from…

“Oh.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows and Merlin realised he had spoken out loud.

“Is it true?” Arthur demanded.

Merlin shrugged. “Is what true? Thought princes were supposed to be eloquent.”

“That’s a big word, _Mer_ lin, sure you know what it means?”

“It means you’re an idiot.”

Arthur grinned and Merlin felt a now-familiar rush of warmth seep through him. He had felt it when he had first kissed Arthur and the other man hadn’t pulled away. Since then, it had been appearing every time he went to talk to Arthur and they had got to know each other a little more rather than just fucking or fighting. But Arthur didn’t let it go.

“Do you love me?”

“Why do you care?” Merlin retorted, deliberately echoing Arthur’s earlier words to try and throw the conversation off. It didn’t work though, not when he could feel his blush returning. Maybe he should use magic to just create a big arrow saying “love-struck idiot here” pointing at him; it would stop the awkward questions if nothing else.

“No one has ever loved me before,” Arthur said quietly. Merlin didn’t have an answer, not when he thought about what Arthur had said about losing his mother. The fact Uther was refusing to give in to their demands said a lot about Arthur’s relationship with the man, especially coupled with what Arthur had already admitted about Uther beating him when he was younger.

“And that scares you?” Merlin asked softly. He was the one avoiding Arthur’s gaze now, but his finger traced a light pattern on the back of Arthur’s hand, not wanting to pull away but not wanting to crowd the man either. “To let someone in? To give someone else the power over your happiness? To…well, to be vulnerable I suppose.”

“Doesn’t it scare you?” Arthur asked. Merlin shook his head.

“It makes me feel free.”

“Show me.” It wasn’t a suggestion. There was raw honesty in Arthur’s voice, an open vulnerability that Merlin wasn’t sure he would see again once Arthur had recovered. He knew now their plan had to change – Uther wasn’t going to cave and he certainly wasn’t going to lift the ban on magic. But Arthur… Arthur could be their way of making a difference and not for the reasons that Nimueh believed.

Merlin shifted, resting one hand on Arthur’s chest. Looking into Arthur’s eyes, he waited for the prince’s soft nod before kissing him. This time, Arthur lifted his arms, wrapping them around Merlin and pulling him closer as he kissed him back. Merlin smiled into it, then almost fell off his chair when Arthur tried to get him even closer still. He kept his hand on the man’s chest, making sure that he stayed in control. He didn’t want to doubt Arthur, but he knew full well the prince could easily be playing him again like last time.

But Arthur made no move to pull away or escalate things. He just took the time to explore and Merlin hoped the prince didn’t notice how aroused he was. If Arthur wanted Merlin to bed him again just to escape, Merlin wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to resist.

Eventually, Merlin pulled back, catching his breath and grinning at how flushed Arthur looked. He rested the back of his hand against Arthur’s forehead. “Freya will kill me if your temperature rises again.”

Arthur smiled. It was a secret smile, a shy and hidden look that Merlin was sure no one had seen before because they hadn’t taken the time to get to know Arthur. If he was honest, Merlin knew if they hadn’t met before their identities had been revealed, he would have gagged and bound Arthur and dragged him back without giving him a chance.

“Tell me about this place.”

“Why?”

“If I’m going to die, or be cursed, or just be left here, whatever comes, I want to know more.”

“I’ll tell you,” Merlin said carefully, “if you tell me what happened with Mordred. Not many here are powerful enough to go against him and Nimueh won’t interfere. I need to know, Arthur.”

It took a little prompting, but eventually Arthur quietly murmured his encounters with Mordred, including the deals and demands the man had made. Merlin was furious, but he hid it behind his confusion.

“You stayed quiet and let him starve you…because of me. I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Arthur said quietly. “So many times I wanted to tell you, knowing you would stop it. But I couldn’t take the risk, I couldn’t chance that…” Arthur stopped, swallowed and looked Merlin in the eye. “I couldn’t risk that he would hurt you because of me.”

“Why do you care?” Merlin whispered, wondering if this was going to become their saying. Arthur shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he admitted and Merlin knew he was being honest. It seemed he was not the only one who was confused about how he was feeling and how he should be reacting.

“Arthur…” Before he could say anything else, he felt someone else draw near. His magic detected Nimueh’s presence and Merlin sighed, moving back onto the chair. Arthur opened his mouth to question his movement and Nimueh strode in. Merlin stood up.

“He’s awake then.”

“He’s right here,” Arthur muttered and Merlin fought to keep his expression neutral. It was easier when he saw the manacles in his mistress’ hand.

“No.” Merlin said, stepping in front of the bed and blocking Nimueh’s view of Arthur. “He’s been through enough. Leave him alone.”

“You’ve grown bold, Merlin.”

“Maybe I should have done a long time ago,” Merlin said. He straightened his back and lifted his chin. “But I won’t let you hurt him. Not again.”


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur looked down at the bed, trying to hide that he was shaking. He didn’t want to be chained back up. He didn’t want to be kept as a prisoner when he knew no good would come of it; his father wasn’t going to relent. He was glad Merlin was in front of him – protecting him again – for it meant neither of the sorcerers could see the look on his face.

“It’s not your place to question me, Merlin. Step aside.”

“No. I’ve let you treat him like an animal for days now and he was tortured because of it. This is wrong. You can’t blame Arthur that his father won’t give in: you can’t take it out on him. It’s not his fault.”

“Have you forgotten he was going to kill you just for having magic, Merlin? Have you forgotten how he tried to drag you back to Camelot like a common criminal? Step aside.”

“Have you forgotten that I dragged him back here in the same way?”

“Step _aside_ , Merlin.”

“Enough,” Arthur said quietly. Although his voice was soft, it still filled the tent and Merlin spun to face him. Arthur forced himself to sit upright, but he couldn’t work out who to look at. Nimueh was in charge, but Merlin seemed to have taken a vested interest in keeping Arthur safe, although the prince had no idea why.

“You think you have the right to be heard?” Nimueh sneered. Arthur fixed his attention on her.

“No. I have no right to anything here, I am your prisoner, your hostage and yours to do with as you will.”

“Arthur-,”

Arthur held up a hand, cutting Merlin off. He carefully climbed out of the bed, closing his eyes at the wave of dizziness that rushed through him. He bit his lip, using the sharp pain to focus himself as he drew his body up to his full height, hands clenched into fists behind his back. He knew how to be the perfect soldier and right now, that was the only thing keep him going.

“You’re right; I would have either killed you or dragged you back to Camelot where you would have been burnt at the stake. Those were my orders and a soldier is nothing if he doesn’t follow orders. I wouldn’t have lost sleep over it because it was what I have been taught my whole life. If every minute of every day you are told something is evil, one chance encounter is not going to change that.”

He expected to be interrupted but Nimueh was holding his gaze. She was silent and still, letting Arthur say his piece – although he strongly suspected she would mock him for it as she locked the shackles around his limbs afterwards.

“But I’m also a prince and my duty is not just to my king, but to my people. I know we crossed the border on the way here, I know we are in Camelot. That makes you my people, whether you like it or not. And regardless of your crimes, I am not about to turn away from a cry of help from those I swore to protect.”

“And your father? The king?”

Arthur gripped his shirt and pulled it over his head. Merlin sucked in a breath and Arthur knew that his days of starvation were showing. Even Nimueh looked taken aback, as if she had known what was going on but not how far Mordred had taken things.

Then Arthur turned around and Merlin gasped again. Uther may not have used his fists for a few years, but he still used the whip when Arthur went against his orders. The last lashing hadn’t been that long ago and the marks were still vivid although Arthur could no longer feel them.

“My father is not always right,” he said, speaking carefully. He knew his words were treason – everything he had just said was treason. He turned back around, shirt dangling from one hand as he looked Nimueh in the eye.

“He won’t do a deal with you. He’ll hunt you down with steel and fire and destroy everyone here, including the children, before he will talk with you. He will use my capture to rally the knights, even those with doubts will storm this place to get me back on his orders. You either need to release me or kill me, for each day you hold me here will fuel his anger.”

“I can’t let you go, Arthur,” Nimueh said. There was regret in her voice and she moved closer, brushing the backs of her fingers across his cheek. Arthur braced himself for more magic, but nothing came. “You are our future, one way or another. I will not be goaded into killing or releasing you until I know how it suits my purpose.”

Arthur nodded. He understood; he was a warrior, after all. He would have done the same thing had their positions been reversed. Nimueh backed off.

“But your words have revealed you to be a man of honour. Give me your word as a knight and a prince that you will not try to escape and you can roam freely through our camp.”

“It is my duty to return home, where my people need me.”

“Arthur, please.” The plea in Merlin’s voice caused Arthur to glance at him. His expression was worried and Arthur understood. If he was bound, there were people in this camp that would take advantage of that. But as he looked at Merlin, Arthur nodded without realising it. He had been starved and prepared to sexually service Mordred to keep Merlin safe. The sorcerer was only trying to do the same for him.

“You have my word as Prince and First Knight of Camelot I will not try to escape.” He spoke softly but heavily, knowing his word was tighter than any chains. The look on Nimueh’s face indicated she knew that but she clicked her fingers and the manacles over her shoulder vanished.

“You’re a better man than your father, Arthur Pendragon.”

With those words, Nimueh turned on her heel and left. As soon as the tent flap concealed them once again from the outside world, Arthur felt his knees giving way as his vision swum.

“Come on.” Merlin’s voice was soft and his hand on Arthur’s back was steadying. His fingers felt cool against Arthur’s flushed skin and Arthur involuntarily leant back into Merlin’s touch. For the first time in his life, he allowed someone to hold him up. “You should be in bed.”

“Insatiable,” Arthur muttered, but allowed Merlin to guide him back to the bed. The sorcerer dipped a cloth in a bowl of water and wiped it over Arthur’s chest. The coolness was bliss and Arthur rested his head back on the pillow with a sigh.

“That was quite an impressive speech,” Merlin said. Arthur glanced at him to see a soft smile on Merlin’s face even though he remained focused on his task. Arthur understood the lack of eye contact as Merlin’s way truly of speaking his mind.

“I’ve had plenty of practice. I know what you must think of me, that I always do what the king commands without thinking about it despite the way he rewards me for it when I put a toe out of line. But I’m a good man, Merlin.”

“Arthur-,”

“At least, I’m trying to be.”

“I know.”

“How? I’ve raged and ranted at you, I tried to kill you, take you prisoner…”

“I’ve done half those things to you too. But when you first approached me on the hill, before you realised I was the warlock, you tried to protect me. That was your first instinct; protection not death. I’ve always thought a man’s first reaction is his truest.”

“Did you just say something wise?”

“Maybe.”

Arthur snorted and settled back against the bed. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open and he felt warm again. He wondered if his speech and moving from the bed had been a little too much considering he had spent however many days unconscious and feverish. He could feel sleep claiming him again.

“I wouldn’t have let him kill you,” Arthur murmured sleepily. The words just slipped out, he wasn’t even aware that he was consciously thinking them. Merlin’s hand stilled on his chest but Arthur feigned sleep, forcing his breathing to even out. He didn’t want to try and explain that one, but deep down he knew he had spoken the truth. He hadn’t witnessed Merlin do anything bad, the villagers had been intent on protecting him. Arthur was certain that he would have gone against his father to try and save Merlin. He would have lost and Merlin’s death would have been worse for it, but he would have tried nonetheless.

It hadn’t just been Merlin’s plea that had made him give his word to Nimueh. Arthur knew what he had been taught and now knew that it was wrong. This was the only place he might ever learn the truth about magic.

MMM

It took almost a week before Arthur was strong enough to leave Merlin’s tent on his own. He tried to put it off, claim that he was weak. But Merlin had seen through him and told him in no uncertain terms that Arthur couldn’t stay there just because he was scared. Merlin had all but pushed him out of the flap and Arthur had felt like a newborn foal stumbling around and blinking in the sunlight. People gave him a few looks as they passed, but no one tried to attack him. No one paid him any attention.

It got easier after that. He still spent the nights with Merlin, although nothing passed between them. Neither seemed to know where they stood with each other but were aware that sex wasn’t the answer. Arthur had tried, but Merlin had rolled his eyes, pulled the prince’s hand from his breeches and told him to go to sleep. No one had ever denied him before and Arthur took it as a challenge.

“Are you coming or not?”

Arthur jumped. He had been lost in thought, thinking of home and how at peace he felt in this small community. It was like a village, despite the structures not being permanent and the magic floating through the air making it unlike any village that Arthur had ever visited. He was getting used to it though, growing accustomed to the way his skin would tingle with the power that was second-nature to these people.

He hurried after Merlin. Although he was learning his way around, he never went anywhere alone if he could help it. When Merlin had claimed it was his turn to fetch water from the river, Arthur had jumped at the chance to help. He wanted to see where they were but most of all he wanted to be away from the constant magic. It was giving him a headache constantly being on guard and trying to sense if anything meant him harm. Arthur was fully aware that if anything did, there was very little he could do about it other than stay close to Merlin and hope the man had meant what he said about protecting him. Arthur hated how weak that made him feel.

He caught up with Merlin on the edge of the camp and Merlin took his hand to guide him through the barrier. Arthur couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. The forest came alive with sounds and _freedom_ once they had passed through. He breathed in deeply and Merlin glanced at him.

“Bit stifling in there?”

Arthur nodded. “You don’t notice until you come out here.”

“I don’t notice the difference at all,” Merlin admitted. “Magic is so much a part of me that I feel it all. I feel the power of nature as much as you feel our power behind the barrier.”

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Arthur asked, genuinely curious. He had felt the magic, felt the way it had been pressing down on him. But to feel that the whole time, to never have any escape… He couldn’t imagine it. Merlin shrugged.

“I’ve never known any different.”

“No wonder sorcerers turn to evil,” Arthur muttered. He hadn’t been addressing Merlin, but the other man stopped. His hand rested on Arthur’s chest as he brought the prince to a halt as well.

“About that,” he began. “There’s something you need to know about me.”

“Oh?” Arthur couldn’t think what – the man had fucked him more than once and protected him the rest of the time. Arthur thought he knew everything he needed to know about Merlin. But Merlin was shuffling his feet, looking nervous.

“Others don’t feel what I feel. It’s not… It’s not just what happened to my mother that made Nimueh take me in and make me her ward. It’s because… Well, there is no easy way to say this. I’m powerful, Arthur. Some say the most powerful ever.”

Arthur ran his gaze up and down Merlin’s skinny form, taking in the way he was chewing his lip and his hands were fiddling with his shirt in a clear display of nerves. He couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing.

“It’s true,” Merlin protested. “I’m not a sorcerer. I’m a warlock. I don’t use magic, Arthur, I am magic.”

Arthur wanted to deny it, to claim that Merlin was trying to impress him. But Merlin knew him better than that – announcing how powerful he was had a better chance of making Arthur run in the opposite direction. He did feel something around Merlin. A sense of safety, a belief that Merlin could genuinely protect him. Would he feel that if Merlin wasn’t as powerful as he claimed?

“Why tell me?” Arthur asked carefully. “Is this to stop me from trying to escape, to tell me its futile? I’ve already given my word, Merlin.”

“No.” Merlin backed away, racking his fingers through his hair as he picked up the bucket once more and started to move towards the water source. “You’ve been nothing but honest. Even when you’re screaming at us all, you’re being honest. I wanted to return the favour. And to let you know that, well, when I say I can protect you, I mean it. There was a reason why Nimueh used me as bait, I am the only one strong enough that would have been able to subdue you without getting hurt in the process.”

Arthur stared after Merlin. He tried to will his legs into moving, to act like this was nothing. But he couldn’t. He knew Merlin wasn’t weak, but to hear him talk so casually about just how powerful he was sent shivers down Arthur’s spine.

It also turned him on in a way he had never experienced. Arthur hadn’t only just always been on top, he had been controlling events, things were done by his say-so. But here, with Merlin, he was nothing in comparison and Merlin was making him feel like he was everything.

His legs snapped into action and Arthur closed the gap between them. He swung Merlin around, backing the surprised man against the tree and crowding him. He could feel that his eyes were dark as he gazed at Merlin hungrily.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s whisper was enough for Arthur to close the gap between them and kiss him fiercely. He had been wanting to since regaining consciousness, but had been wary about who may be watching; his feelings towards Merlin had already got them into trouble once. Merlin’s hands came to tangle in his hair and Arthur grunted when Merlin tugged a little, sliding his leg in between Merlin’s and pressing forward until he was putting pressure on Merlin’s crotch. Unless Arthur was mistaken, the most powerful warlock there was whimpered into his kiss.

“Arthur.” Merlin’s hand rested on his chest and he pushed him away. Arthur stumbled, looking back at Merlin in bewilderment. The arousal in his groin and his eyes was enough to tell Arthur that Merlin wanted this.

“Wait,” Merlin said. “Your place is in Camelot. Not with…I mean…”

Arthur knew what Merlin meant. His place was by his father’s side, not Merlin’s. If he fell for him, if things went further than whatever confusion they already were, Arthur knew what he would potentially giving up. But right now, he didn’t care. He was young, fit and extremely drawn to the wrecked looking man in front of him. This was neither the time nor place to be discussing feelings that Arthur wasn’t yet sure whether he was experiencing or not.

“Make me stop,” he muttered, his voice low. Merlin’s eyes widened in surprise and his hand fisted in Arthur’s shirt as he dragged him back in.

“You really do want it like this,” he murmured, pressing hot kisses to Arthur’s neck. Arthur let him, before drawing back and dropping to his knees. He tugged Merlin’s breeches down past the swell of his arse, hands caressing his thighs. He looked up at Merlin from under his eyelashes and Merlin definitely whimpered again as Arthur took him in his mouth. This time, he had no ulterior motive, no plan to escape. He just wanted the feeling of Merlin’s hands in his hair, the sharp twist of his fingers as Merlin lost control.

The warlock was right though. This was what Arthur wanted. For once, not to be the one in charge, not to be the one who had to make decisions and make sure he was doing the right thing for everyone else but himself. For the first time, with Merlin, he had found someone stronger than him, someone who could take that weight from him and expect nothing more from Arthur than his body. He didn’t care what that made him. He didn’t care about anything right now, here on his knees in the middle of a forest.

And it was the most glorious feeling ever.


	12. Chapter 12

Something changed after that moment in the forest. Merlin didn’t know what, but there was a gleam in Arthur’s eye that he hadn’t seen before. It made no sense, but Merlin was tempted to say the man was happy. He had stayed true to his word and not attempted to escape and Mordred hadn’t dared come anywhere near them. 

Merlin felt more relaxed than he had done for a long time. No longer was he worrying about what Mordred would want from him – a concern he hadn’t even been aware of until it vanished – and with Arthur in the camp, the usual shadow of Uther didn’t feel as threatening. For the first time since his mother had been killed, Merlin wondered if they could really achieve Nimueh’s dream and those with magic would be able to roam freely and use their power without fear.  

That feeling of contentment spread through his body like the warming effects of ale as he looked over at Arthur. There were a group of children sitting off to one side, watching as intently as Merlin as Arthur swung an axe at a pile of logs that needed splitting. Merlin had explained they couldn’t do everything by magic or people would grow lazy and weak. Arthur had looked astonished and Merlin knew he had never done this type of physical work himself before either. Once Merlin had called him out on it, Arthur had been unable to resist the challenge and he had set to splitting logs as if it was an enemy coming to attack his beloved Camelot. 

Considering the morning sun and warm weather had caused Arthur to remove his shirt, Merlin wasn’t complaining. He was sure there were jobs he was supposed to be doing, but right now, he was leaning against a tree, arms folded, ankles crossed and a grin on his face as he watched Arthur work. The sweat glistening of the sun-kissed skin was an enjoyable sight, one Merlin hoped to replicate by moonlight that night. 

“There you are.” Freya voice made him jump and Merlin glanced guiltily over his shoulder at his friend. She had an amused expression on her face. “I am hoping you genuinely forgot it’s Wednesday rather than being so busy daydreaming about lover-boy there that you stood me up?” 

“He’s not my lover,” Merlin said automatically, before blinking. “It is really Wednesday?” 

Freya laughed and nodded. Merlin always helped her collect the plants she needed to keep the camp healthy on a Wednesday. He glanced back at Arthur. It had been the last normal task he had done before setting off to intercept the Knights two weeks ago.  Merlin couldn’t believe how quickly the time had gone, nor how much had changed in that time. He certainly wouldn’t have guessed he would now be sleeping with the man he had set out to capture. Freya touched his arm gently and Merlin jumped. 

“Come on,” she said softly. “You can’t watch him day and night.  Show the others you trust him and his word means something. Everyone thinks he has stayed because of your power, not because of his word.” 

Merlin nodded, not trusting his voice. He understood; he was the one person Arthur wouldn’t be able to escape from and the entire camp knew it. He called over, telling Arthur that he expected the pile done when he got back. 

“Yes, Sire!” Arthur mocked saluted and Merlin rolled his eyes, wondering what had happened to the defiant yet terrified prisoner. He turned to walk off. 

“Merlin, wait!”  

Before he could turn properly, Arthur had caught his arm and spun him back. The prince’s hand cupped his cheek and before Merlin realised what was happening, he was being kissed. In front of the children. He hoped they couldn’t see much because there was nothing innocent in Arthur’s kiss and Merlin felt his knees go weak, hands scrabbling after Arthur’s shoulders as he tried to stay upright. As quickly as it started, Arthur pulled away, winked and went back to his work amongst the gigging children. Stunned, there was nothing Merlin could do but let himself be pulled away. Freya stopped as soon as they were past the boundary and out of ear-shot. 

“He’s clever,” she murmured. Merlin looked at her but her words barely registered. His mind was elsewhere. 

“Hmm?” 

“Arthur,” Freya continued with another eye-roll. “He knew precisely what he was doing with that kiss.” 

“I know.” 

“Merlin!  Focus, will you? I meant that people might think he stayed because of your power, but the way he dominated that kiss made it clear he is not your toy.” 

Merlin snapped out of his daze and stared at her.  “Excuse me?” 

“It’s hardly a secret what the two of you have been up to during the evening. Even if Arthur isn’t planning anything, he has made it clear he is not your plaything. “ 

Merlin didn’t need to be near a water source to know he was blushing. He should have realised that people would think like that and there were some who would encourage the rumours. His thoughts were clear on his face as Freya put her hand on his arm. 

“Like I said, he just put that rumour to rest. Children will gossip, especially over something like that. The whole camp will know by the time we get back. “ 

She moved off into the forest and Merlin knew she didn’t want to spend their time together just talking about Arthur, especially not in such a political way. As Merlin moved after her – alert for danger – he thought about what they had just happened.   

There had been confidence in that kiss, the type of which Merlin hadn’t seen from Arthur since their first night together. He didn’t blame Arthur for hiding it; escape would be easier if he was being underestimated.  But it reminded Merlin that Arthur was a prince, used to both controlling and – if Merlin wasn’t mistaken – charming those around him. After all, Arthur must have earned his lovers silence if the king never found out. 

Hurting after Freya, Merlin didn’t realise he was grinning until she gave him a startled look. 

“You look like...” 

“The cat who got the cream?” Merlin teased and wasn’t quick enough to duck the handful of leaves she threw at him. If he was honest, he didn’t try. 

“Very funny. I just meant... Merlin, I don’t think I have seen you this happy since... well, I don’t know when. You haven’t been on patrol; you haven’t been frantically searching for answers to questions I am not even sure you understand.  You’re actually eating and sleeping well and we have our biggest enemy right in the centre of our homes and lives.” 

“Arthur isn’t our enemy,” Merlin protested. “Besides, I might have slept with the man but I know where my loyalties are. I will protect him from Mordred, but if he tries anything...” Merlin broke off with a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.  

“There’s more to him than anyone knows,” Merlin said. “And I know how that feels. He feels right, in a way I can’t explain.” 

His good mood vanished as Merlin considered his dilemma.  It wasn’t as if Arthur was here to stay, he had a kingdom to protect and rule, after all. He stared out at the forest, hoping it would calm his restless thoughts, but it didn’t work. Freya touched his arm again. 

“Then make the most of it. I can’t be the only one seeing he is good for you. And who knows, maybe if you can make him fall in love with you, Nimueh’s curse won’t be needed.” 

“That’s your plan?” Merlin forced himself to laugh, knowing brooding wouldn’t help. “The enemy we have feared for years, the mighty prince Arthur, and you want me to seduce him?” 

Freya shrugged. “You’re gorgeous, why not? Now come on, I have plants to pick before the afternoon gets too late.” 

She grabbed his hand and this time, Merlin let himself be pulled along. Maybe Freya was right and he just needed to enjoy what he had for the first time since his mother died? She was also right about this being the most at peace Merlin had been for years and he couldn’t deny he felt better for it. In fact, he felt stronger than ever.  

Luckily, despite going along for Freya’s protection, Merlin didn’t need his magic that afternoon. Being with his closest friend was powerful enough and a weight he didn’t know had been resting on him vanished by the time they returned to camp. 

Merlin tried not to appear eager. But he was genuinely curious as to whether Arthur would have taken his absence as a chance to run. When he saw the Prince carefully showing a couple of teenagers the correct way to hold a sword – despite Arthur himself holding nothing but a stick – warmth exploded in his chest and he knew that, regardless of what he had told Freya, he was in trouble.  

MMM

Arthur stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at Merlin. Although the prince had scrambled into his breeches as soon as he had left the warmth of the blankets – the night was chilly without Merlin’s body warmth – the warlock was splayed naked across the bed. Arthur wasn’t lustful as he stared down at the man – his appetite had been more than slated a few hours before – but he couldn’t help but admire Merlin’s form. He had appreciated it since he had first laid eyes on him in the inn, and had never considered then the position he might be in now.

Shrugging on his shirt, Arthur reached the tent flap when he heard Merlin whimper in his sleep. He instantly turned back. If Merlin awoke and realised he was gone, Arthur knew he would be watched like a hawk until Merlin accepted he hadn’t meant anything by it. So instead, Arthur crouched beside the bed and gently brushed his hand over Merlin’s forehead.

“Shh,” he whispered. “Just sleep. It’s alright. Sleep, Merlin.”

There was a lump in his throat as Merlin calmed under his touch and Arthur hurried out before he forgot his plan and crawled back into the bed. He had been thinking the whole time while working earlier that day. The physical release had been just what he needed; proof to himself that he had recovered from Mordred and a way of working his muscles. He trained every day while at home; captivity did not suit him.

The camp was quiet and Arthur shivered in the cold air, wishing for his cloak. He moved briskly, hoping he knew where he was going and no one would challenge him. He didn’t even know if the camp was guarded during the night; it wasn’t as if anyone could stumble across it and he was sure Nimueh must have put spells in place to warn them of any imminent attacks. Still, instinct meant Arthur kept to the shadows. He knew (and understood) that not everyone here was pleased at how much freedom he had and Arthur knew if he was seen by the wrong people, he would be chained back up before he could explain.

Whether fate was on his side or whether there simply was no one else up, Arthur made it to Nimueh’s tent without being challenged. He stopped outside, taking a deep breath as he tried to steel himself. He had sworn not to escape (which he was already regretting, but couldn’t go back on his word), but that didn’t mean he didn’t want answers. Nimueh’s attitude towards him confused him. There were times where she appeared to hate him and then there were moments where she was gentle. Arthur wanted to know why she hated his father so much – he knew this was more than just Uther’s attitude on magic.

But now he was here, Arthur wasn’t sure whether entering was the right choice of action or not. Nimueh scared him, Arthur knew he was a fool if he didn’t admit that. His feet tripped over themselves as he simultaneously tried to move forwards and backwards.

“Are you entering or not, princeling?” Nimueh sounded amused rather than angry though and Arthur forced himself through the flap. She didn’t look like she had gone to bed – for which he was grateful – despite everyone under her protection being fast asleep. She didn’t look up at him as she studied a piece of parchment spread over a small table. Arthur took a step forward.

“Is he having a nightmare?”

“What?” Arthur’s blunt tone made her look around.

“Merlin. I assume that is why you are here; his magic goes wild in his dreams.”

“He’s fine,” Arthur said, shrugging when she looked at him properly. “He stirred but he was resting peacefully when I left.”

“Hmm.” Nimueh swivelled and sat in a chair, her ankles crossed delicately. “This is the longest he has gone for years without needing intervention.”

“Maybe he doesn’t feel the pressure now you’ve carried out your plan of catching me.” Arthur also sat, but he made sure he positioned his chair by the flap and didn’t get too comfortable. Nimueh offered him a drink and Arthur stared at her.

“If I say yes, am I going to pass out again?”

She shook her head. “I think we’ve moved past me drugging you, don’t you, princeling?”

Arthur gave a curt nod, hating the nickname but not wanting to say anything. Neither of them spoke until they both had a drink in their hand.

“What is it you want from me, Arthur?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Arthur retorted before taking a deep breath. “You were close to my father, weren’t you? Your hatred for him, for me, go beyond a normal sorcerer, especially as you’ve managed to survive quite well within Camelot’s borders.”

“You’re observant for one so blinded by hatred.”

“Were you his lover?” Arthur’s heart was racing and his mouth felt dry as he uttered the words. But he had been playing it over and over in his mind: everything she had said or done in reaction to Uther’s name, the hatred in her eyes… Arthur knew they must have been close and personal and it was the only thing he could think of. But Nimueh shook her head and Arthur sank back in his chair, despondent.

“I was your mother’s.”

Arthur sat back up so fast his back cracked, but he ignored it. “My m-mother? You knew my mother?”

“Very well,” Nimueh said. “I loved her. As did your father. So if by lover you mean were we physical together, then yes. But it was your mother who held my heart and I hers, and it was only for her behalf that I lay with your father.”

Slowly, Arthur let the chair take his weight again. After all the answers he had been expecting, that was not it. Nimueh watched him.

“Does it shock you?” She asked. Arthur shook his head.

“I just wasn’t expecting to hear my mother mentioned. How can it shock me when I’m…you know, well…”

“The same?”

Arthur nodded this time. He had been sleeping (and wanting) men as soon as he learnt what lust was. To know his mother thought the same way was a comfort; it was his father who was wrong, not him. But he had to wonder whether it was because of Nimueh that his father had always told him he must never look at the same sex.

“And me?” Arthur said quietly. “Why do you hate me so much? Is it because I look like her? I know it is hard for my father, it’s why… Why he can’t help himself sometimes.”

He knew it was no excuse; no father should beat their son, especially not out of frustration for how much they looked like their dead mother. But Arthur had spent years defending the man even if he didn’t believe it and he wasn’t about to change now, especially not in the presence of the woman who was responsible for his captivity.

“I could never hate you, Arthur,” Nimueh said. For the first time since Arthur had met her, he could detect no sarcasm or contempt in her tone. “I’m partly responsible for your birth.”

“Excuse me?”

For the next half an hour, Arthur listened in muted astonishment as Nimueh explained how she had helped his parents conceive, knowing it was Igraine’s heart’s desire to have a child and she could not refuse her love anything. She spoke of her regret and the terrible price the kingdom had paid for Arthur’s existence.

“And now here you are, challenging me in the same way she did, with the same look on your face she got when she thought I was being foolish.”

Arthur had no idea what to say. His father had wanted to use magic; despite everything he had taught Arthur about it. The man was a hypocrite as well as a bully and a liar and for the first time since he had been brought here, Arthur didn’t want to go back.

“So why?” He asked in a choked voice. “Why curse me now if you helped give me life?”

Nimueh leant over the table and touched the back of his hand. “Your father risked everything for you to live. Do you not think he would do the same now? He needs to understand: I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it. But let us not talk of your father tonight. There are questions you must have, questions about your mother that no one has ever answered for you.”

She sat back and smiled at him gently. “We will worry about the future tomorrow, young prince. Tonight, let us speak of those we have loved and lost.”

Arthur nodded, realising there were tears in his eyes. For so many years he had longed to know about his mother, and now, here, where he was nothing but a prisoner, he would be getting those answers.


	13. Chapter 13

“I need to talk to you,” Arthur said. With a soft  _pop_ , Merlin sat up and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Arthur squirmed, realising his timing couldn’t have been worse. 

“Now?” Merlin demanded, sounding thoroughly put out. Arthur grinned, pleased that Merlin had been enjoying himself as much as Arthur had. The prince shook his head and Merlin returned to his task with a relish. Unable to stop himself, Arthur’s fingers entwined themselves in Merlin hair. He was resting back comfortably on their bed (although he wasn’t sure when he had started referring to it as _their’s_ ), propped up by a couple of pillows. Merlin was naked but Arthur was still fully dressed apart from his breeches pulled down to his knees. 

It hadn’t been his fault this time. Merlin had been waiting for him – for quite some time if his shivering was anything to go by – and he had all but lunged at Arthur when he walked in. Arthur didn’t know what had fired Merlin up, but he wasn’t complaining.  Before he knew it, he was on his back and Merlin mouth was closing over him. 

His hips bucked but Arthur was carefully not to grip Merlin’s hair too hard. Mordred wouldn’t have been gentle, not from what Arthur had picked up, and he wanted Merlin to experience the good things in sex. But Merlin was far from innocent and Arthur was coming apart far quicker than he wanted to. Scrunching his toes, he tried to recall some of the lessons his father had drilled into him over the years. 

He hadn’t realised he was muttering out loud until Merlin glanced up at him from under his eyelashes. The look did something strange to Arthur’s heart and Merlin took advantage of his distraction to swirl his tongue. Arthur’s feet slammed against the bed and he bucked up with a shout. 

This time, when Merlin sat up and wiped his mouth, he looked smug. 

“You’ve said something about wanting to talk?” 

Arthur stared at him. Whatever he had wanted to say no longer seemed important at looking how debauched Merlin looked and that was before Arthur had even touched him.  

“Later,” Arthur muttered. He grabbed Merlin’s arm and hauled him up the bed. Merlin came easily and not for the first time did Arthur think that Merlin’s magic was the only reason why he had survived this long. He had a wiry strength, but Arthur was yet to witness him use it for anything other than bedding the prince. Arthur didn’t think of that now but instead focused on stripping his clothes off and tossing them in a heap. Merlin watched him hungrily the whole time, propped up on an elbow. He pulled Arthur back down as soon as he was bare. 

But it was Arthur’s turn to be in control. Flipping them over, Arthur straddled him, reaching behind himself and starting to stretch himself. Merlin had taught him that much during their brief time as lovers. Arthur had given up denying it. He had called the stable boys lovers to make them happy and he had only laid with them once, twice at the most. Whatever he had with Merlin was complicated and this was the easiest label he had for it.  

“Wha-?” Merlin began, his eyes dark and blown as he watched Arthur work. 

“There is something I want to try,” Arthur muttered. Once he was sure he wouldn’t hurt himself, he lowered himself onto Merlin, who let out a strangled cry and his hands came to eagerly grasp at Arthur’s hips. He didn’t move though, something Arthur was grateful for as he struggled to adjust. Then Merlin hitched slightly and Arthur felt he could have been sinking onto a cushion; everything felt right. 

He lost track after that, only focusing on the trembling of his thighs as he lifted his weight, concentrating on the way Merlin was biting is bottom lip as a guide as to whether he was doing it right or not. Merlin let him set the speed, but Arthur could see how much he was struggling to hold himself back. 

“Take me,” he growled. He wanted to be owned, and he wanted it to be Merlin. The warlock lost all control at that and time ceased for Arthur until he was aware of Merlin stroking his hair back from his sweaty forehead and calling his name softly.  

“Did I break you?” Merlin teased when Arthur forced his eyes to focus on the man. Then his expression grew serious. “Did I hurt you?” 

Arthur shook his head, coiling his hand around Merlin’s neck and pulling him in until he could kiss him leisurely. “Thank you.” 

“Oh it was such a hardship,” Merlin said, yawning. Arthur tugged him down until the warlock was lying next to him, then Merlin scooted around until his head was resting on Arthur’s chest and he drew patterns idly across his stomach. Arthur sucked in a breath but didn’t let on that it tickled. He was certain that knowledge would be dangerous in Merlin’s hands.

Once his breathing had returned to normal, Arthur remembered what he had come in here to talk about in the first place. 

“Merlin?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I have to leave. Escape if I have to.” Arthur wasn’t sure if he had made enough friends for Nimueh to just release him. 

“Why?” Merlin’s voice was carefully controlled and Arthur was reminded how little they knew about each other really. He sat up, hugging his knees to his chest.  

“Nimueh,” he said simply. As quickly as he could, he gave Merlin a run-down of his conversation with the warlock’s mistress. He didn’t intend to tell Merlin about his mother, but it spilled from him. It was too easy to talk to Merlin.

“She loved my mother and is still prepared to kill or curse me. Hate is stronger than love.” 

He had spent his life believing that because of his father. Nimueh had just proved it was true but Arthur felt a great sadness settle on him because of it. It was like it had killed some part of his hope. 

“You’ve don’t believe that.” Merlin said. He sat up, his hand resting comfortably between Arthur’s shoulders blades. It felt like it belonged there and Arthur shivered. Merlin mistook it for coldness and pulled the blanket around them both.  

 “My father hasn’t come for me. What do you think?”

“No.” Merlin shook his head, defiance written over his face and shining brightly out of his eyes. “I don’t accept that. If hatred is stronger, I would have left you tied to that post. Not-,”

He cut himself off sharply and Arthur twisted around properly. He caught Merlin’s hand in his own. “Not what?”

Merlin didn’t meet his gaze but Arthur waited. He thought he knew where this was going, but he wanted to hear Merlin say it. He wanted to know for sure that he wasn’t imagining things.

“Not falling in love with you, you idiot.” Merlin muttered. He still refused to look at Arthur and a blush steadily worked up his chest, neck and across his cheek. Arthur let go his hand and rested his palm against one of Merlin’s red cheeks, brushing if lightly with his thumb.

“Bad idea,” he whispered. He didn’t say it back – he wouldn’t. If he admitted what he was feeling in his heart, he knows he would never go back to Camelot. His kingdom needed him and Arthur knew that was more important than what he felt. Besides, if he left now, he might still be able to forget Merlin.

At least, that is what he told himself when he had decided to escape.

“I can’t help it,” Merlin muttered, indignant. His tone made Arthur grin and Merlin sniffed before sitting up straighter. “Why tell me though? You know I could stop you with just a word. “

“I know,” Arthur said quietly. He took a breath and looked Merlin in the eye. “I wanted you to know though. And I wanted to ask you to let me go.”

He knew what he was asking of Merlin. Having Arthur here to force negotiations was everything Merlin had been working towards. Arthur was asking Merlin to ignore that, to let go of his plans for the future just because of his feelings for the man who was supposed to be his enemy.

Merlin started laughing. Arthur frowned.

“What? “

Merlin shook his head, tears of mirth in his eyes. Arthur stared at him in bewilderment before Merlin took a deep breath.

“You say you believe hate is stronger than love. But it’s love that means you think I will be willing to let you go.”

“And will you?” Arthur breathed, ignoring his own contradiction. Merlin reached up and cupped his cheek.

“I am not sure I could even if I wanted to,” he murmured. Arthur’s heart sank and he tried to turn away, but Merlin’s hand held him in place. As Arthur looked into his eyes, Merlin softly nodded and Arthur felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude. If Merlin let him go, no one had to be hurt. Arthur knew his time here had changed him; he shouldn’t care Druids got hurt or not. He shouldn’t, but he did.

That was why Arthur knew he had to get out as fast as he could.

MMM

“You have to let him go.”

Before Arthur arrived in his life, Merlin would have never dared intrude on Nimueh in such an abrupt manner. Even when he had been an angry teenager, he had still knocked. Not this time. Arthur’s presence had made him bold and Merlin ducked through the flap with those opening words. Nimueh had once again been leaning over the table, but Merlin recognised her scrying bowl. He walked over and peered in.

“You presume you have the right to look?” Nimueh said but her voice was mild and Merlin knew she wasn’t really angry at him. He looked in and saw himself looking at a throne room from a vantage ointment somewhere near the ceiling. He had seen this room many times before; Nimueh had spent hours watching while they planned their attack on Arthur. It was how they know what route he would take.

But Merlin wasn’t interested in the throne room of Camelot. He only had eyes for the king. The man was alone and Merlin assumed a meeting had just finished. But his hand was on the hilt of his sword and he looked angry, far angrier than Merlin had ever witnessed during their spying and he had seen Uther’s reaction when rumours of Merlin’s power had reached Camelot.

“That angry and he still won’t agree to talk?” Merlin momentarily forgot what he had come to request from his mistress. He didn’t understand. His mother had died for him yet Uther was doing nothing but ranting despite Nimueh having offered him a way to peacefully get his son back. Arthur was right; Uther didn’t care.

Thoughts of the prince made Merlin turn his back on the bowl in case it distracted him again. He took a deep breath.

“You have to let him go.”

“You’ve requested that of me before,” Nimueh said mildly. She sat back on her bed and lounged back. Merlin knew anyone else would have found the position seductive again least but it had no effect on him. It never had done. 

“Not like this,” Merlin said quietly. He ran his fingers through his hair and flopped into a chair, his limbs splayed in an ungainly manner. “He’s not going to stay.”

“He’s told you this?” Merlin nodded and Nimueh sat up, suspicious. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

This time, Nimueh nodded softly. “I guessed as much when he came to me last night.”

Merlin shifted uncomfortably.  Arthur might not have said the words, but it appeared Merlin was not the only one who had guessed the prince was in love.

“He asked me not to stop him. I think he would stay if I asked him to.”

“Then that is what you must do.”

“No.” Merlin’s voice was strong and he sat up straighter. “He would hate me if I did. And he would fight. We can’t just hold him here.”

“Am I right in believing he is not the only one letting emotions cloud his judgement? He has told you he means to escape, so secure him and make sure our plan stays on track.”

“Emotions?” Merlin jumped to his feet. The canvas of the tent rippled with his anger but he didn’t try and hold it back. Nimueh was the one person in the camp he didn’t have to fear hurting if he lashed out; she was too powerful. “You mean like you have?”

“Watch yourself, boy.” Nimueh sat up properly and Merlin knew he had crossed a line. He didn’t back down though. Maybe Arthur had drawn his stubbornness out as well as his boldness?

“All this is happening because you can’t let go of your hatred!”

“Uther is killing our kind and you would side with our enemies!”

“Arthur is innocent.” Merlin didn’t raise his voice; his words were barely a whisper but they echoed around the tent. Nimueh leapt up, grabbing his arm and dragging him over to the scrying bowel again. She uttered a harsh word of magic and Merlin found himself witnessing all the times Arthur had gone after a sorcerer, or how many had been killed trying to resist the prince. Merlin shook his head.

“He’s changed.”

“He’s a Pendragon, he will never change.”

Merlin knew then what he had to do. He had to get Nimueh to see past Arthur being Uther’s heir and see him instead as Igraine’s child. He pulled on his magic, pointing at the bowl and letting the power roll off him. He didn’t even know what the spell was; instinct had taken over.

A smile tugged his lips as he watched the images unfold. All the times Arthur had defied his father – which were more numerous that Merlin had guessed – and moments of innocence and fun – of which there were very few.

But it had the desired effect. Nimueh stumbled back, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as she looked away from the bowl.

“He looks like her when he smiles,” she whispered. Merlin knelt by her feet.

“Please,” he implored. “We have to release him, you know this.”

For a long while, Nimueh didn’t move and Merlin thought he had failed, especially when he saw the steel enter her eyes again.

“You’re right,” Nimueh finally said, surprising him. “We will find another way.”

A wide smile spread over Merlin’s face and he felt the urge to hug her. He kept it in check though. This hadn’t just been about securing Arthur’s freedom. Merlin didn’t want anyone to believe that hatred was stronger than love. His mother had made sure he knew it and it was the teaching that had driven everything Merlin did. It was love for his people that had led to Arthur’s capture and now it was love for the man that led to his release.

He nodded at his mistress but she called him back as he reached the tent flap.

“You will be punished for your tone and subservience,” she said. Merlin merely nodded – unlike Arthur, he had never been a good soldier and done so he was told. Nimueh wouldn’t deliver anything he couldn’t handle.

But he left the tent and began searching for Arthur.  After an hour had passed, Merlin began to feel worried. Arthur was nowhere to be seen and no one remembered seeing him around. Merlin felt cold. He knew Arthur meant to escape, but surely the prince wouldn’t go without saying goodbye?

Merlin moved towards their shield. He didn’t know if he was supposed to let him go, or find him so that he could officially release him. Gnawing his lip in indecision, Merlin jumped when Mordred appeared.

“Lost him then, have you?”

Merlin slowly turned to look at his once-lover. He hadn’t spoken to Mordred after discovering what he had tried to do to Arthur. But the man looked smug now and Merlin token a deep breath.

“You know where he is,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. Mordred shrugged.

“I might do.”

“Tell me.” It wasn’t a request and Merlin felt his magic building. Mordred must have sensed it; he stepped back uncertainly and avoided Merlin’s gaze, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“He went east.”

Merlin’s blood ran cold. He sprinted forward, charging through the shield without a backwards glance.

“Arthur!” He screamed, the trees echoing his words. Camelot was west from here; nothing lay to the east apart from poisonous animals that often took magic to defeat. Arthur wouldn’t have gone that way; his instinct would have led him home. Someone must have told him too and Merlin had a very good idea of who.

There was no answer to his shout, but Merlin had known there wouldn’t be. Arthur would have left as soon as Merlin had gone to see Nimueh; he was at least an hour ahead.

Hoping that his magic wouldn’t lead him astray and that he was strong enough to defeat any of the creatures that awaited him, Merlin ran into the forest, trusting his power to guide him to his prince. Once he had Arthur on the correct course for home -along with a scolding for listening to Mordred and not waiting for Merlin – then he was going to kill Mordred. He had warned him what would happen if he touched Arthur, and sending him on a path to his death counted as touching him.

But anger didn’t help Merlin move any faster. Worry did. Worry, and fear that something would get to Arthur before he did. Shoving thoughts of Mordred out of his head, Merlin sped up.

Yet pushing his thoughts away from Mordred wasn’t enough. Merlin hadn’t gone far when he realised he was being followed and he spun around. He thought he was ready for Mordred, but the younger man’s fist caught him squarely on the cheek and Merlin stumbled. He tripped and fell, dizziness driving away his magic. There was nothing he could do but watch Mordred stalk closer.


	14. Chapter 14

Merlin scrambled back, then stopped, staring up at Mordred. He had nothing to fear from the younger man. Not only was he more powerful when it came to magic, he knew both his mind and his heart. Merlin knew what he wanted and how far he was prepared to go to get it. The same couldn’t be said of Mordred and Merlin knew that gave him the advantage.

“Why did you send him out here?” Merlin asked quietly. Mordred stared at him, his fist still clenched. Merlin’s question threw him though and he didn’t immediately answer. Merlin put his palms on the floor, preparing to rise. Mordred growled and Merlin stayed where he was. He didn’t have time for this, but Mordred wasn’t without his own power. Fighting him would take longer than a few carefully chosen words.

“Are you so lost these days you will send an innocent to their death?”

“He’s not innocent!”

“What did he do to you?” Merlin asked. “You’re the one who starved him, you’re the one who tried to rape him.”

“He arrested you.”

“He did that to me, not you.” Merlin spoke softly, knowing he had to keep Mordred calm. His heart was racing though. Every moment he remained on the floor was a moment longer that Arthur had to get himself killed. “If anyone should take revenge, it is me. You do not have the right to go after him.”

“ _I_ don’t have the right?” Mordred’s voice was shrill and he dropped to his knees. Merlin didn’t move, not even when Mordred straddled him, pressing his hands into the dirt and pinning them there. He had never seen Mordred like this and not being able to predict his actions made him cautious.

“You were _mine_ , Merlin. You were mine and he took you away from me.”

“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“You’re mine!”

“What are you going to do? Tie _me_ to a pole and starve me unless I agree to let you fuck me?”

“I could just take you right now.”

“You could. But Nimueh would have you killed for rape, if I don’t kill you first.” Merlin sat up, shoving Mordred off him with a hand to his shoulder. “I’m not yours, Mordred. I never have been. We fooled around, sure enough. But you never had my heart and you never will.”

“What does he have that I don’t?” Mordred’s voice had gone soft and Merlin saw the look of helplessness in his eyes. He should have guessed; he should have known by Mordred’s possessive nature that this had never been fooling around for Mordred. He may even love him, but Merlin wasn’t sure if that just made him more dangerous.

“Nothing. But you can’t force someone to love you.”

“But you love him?”

“I do,” Merlin said quietly, resting a hand on Mordred’s shoulder. “And I need your help to save him.”

Mordred looked at him steadily and Merlin held his breath. But then Mordred nodded and Merlin climbed to his feet, offering out his hand. “Maybe if you change your aggressive nature, we can be friends.”

“But…”

“That’s what I’m offering, Mordred. Either let go of your hate, or I will stop you.” Merlin spoke quietly, knowing it was the right thing. Hatred was what had led them to this point. Kidnapping Arthur had been about trying to protect his own people, not revenge on Uther. Merlin knew he could use Mordred’s feelings for him as a way of saving the young man and make him let go of his hate. He didn’t want to see him lost to the darkness, regardless of what Mordred had done.

“Right now, we have a prince to save.”

Merlin never would have guessed he would be uttering those words. Mordred’s short laugh revealed he thought the same but the pair of them plunged into the forest. They followed the path. Merlin was sure Arthur would have done the same, wanting to put as much distance between the camp and himself as he could, especially as he had been seen leaving.

“How far could he get?” Merlin grunted as he tried to force his way through a bush that seemed intent on snagging every thread of his clothing. They had been travelling for just over an hour and there hadn’t been any sign of Arthur yet apart from a few prints in the dirt that indicated they were on the right track.

“He looked determined,” Mordred muttered. He waved his hand, spoke a spell and Merlin’s bushy prison retreated.

“Thanks. The river is over that way; he’ll know he will need a water source. Let’s follow it.” He took the lead, hearing Mordred stumbling along behind him. It wasn’t the sound of the rushing water that revealed they were on the right track though, but the sound of someone yelling just past the next clearing of trees.

“Arthur!” Merlin broke into a run, skidding into the clearing and staring with wide eyes. He hesitated for only a second before throwing out his hand and shouting a deep and guttural word. The serkets were thrown back, hissing angrily as Merlin advanced. His eyes were burning gold and magic pulsed from him in short bursts. One tried to advance again and Merlin sent a lightning bolt into its side, exploding the creature. Mordred made a noise of disgust at the mess but the rest of the serkets fled, seeing Merlin as too much of a threat.

“What took you so long?”

Merlin turned at Arthur’s quip. The man’s voice was hoarse and wavering and when Merlin looked at the prince, it was to see Arthur was deathly pale with blood running from one arm. Sweat beaded his brow and his eyes looked feverish. But there was a sword hanging from his hand and it was stained with black blood, a sign that he had been fighting off the creatures and winning until now. Merlin wondered where he had got the sword, then realised he must have stolen it from the camp on his way out.

“Arthur?” Merlin took a hesitant step forward. Arthur looked exhausted and Merlin wondered how long he had been fighting for. Arthur tried to grin, but he gave a strangled gasp instead as his eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted, the sword clattering onto the leafy ground below.

The magic rolled off Merlin instinctively, slowing down time until he could cross the clearing and stop Arthur from hitting the floor. His knees buckled under the man’s dead weight as time resumed itself and he had no choice but to lower Arthur carefully.

“Arthur? Arthur, can you hear me?” He tried shaking him, but Arthur didn’t respond.

Already, Merlin could see that he was burning up and a soft moan escaped Arthur’s lips, one filled with pain. Merlin bit his own lip, not knowing what to do. He felt like he should act, use magic to save him. But he had no idea what would help and he remembered Freya’s warning about Arthur fighting the magic instead of the poison.

“We need to get him back.” Mordred was suddenly beside him, grabbing one of Arthur’s arms in order to pull him over his shoulder.

“Wait.” Merlin held out a hand as he stood, then gestured for Mordred to pass him over. When Mordred looked as if he was going to protest, Merlin raised an eyebrow and Mordred gave in, shifting Arthur until they had him over Merlin’s shoulders. A flash of his eyes later and Merlin could bear the weight easily. He set off quickly, Mordred on his heels.

While it had taken them an hour to find Arthur, it took almost three to get back. Merlin insisted they stopped when he felt Arthur fidgeting, but then realised he was fighting against the poison rather than stirring. They sped up after that, but even with the use of magic, Arthur’s weight slowed them down.

“What happened?”

Merlin looked up, his neck burning from where he had been watching the ground rather than where he was going. He had barely noticed they had been approaching camp and he knew he had Mordred to thank for getting them back. Merlin was distracted to say the least.

But Nimueh sounded genuinely shocked and Merlin realised Mordred had disappeared from behind him.

“He went the wrong way,” Merlin said tightly. This wasn’t the time to go into Mordred’s actions, not when Arthur was burning up. “I think it was the serkets but I can’t be sure. It could have been anything.”

“Your tent. Now.” Nimueh closed her eyes and Merlin knew she was sending a telepathic message to Freya. Shifting Arthur, he carried on putting one foot in front of the other until he was tipping Arthur onto his bed. He instantly lent forward, stroking his hair back and wincing at the heat radiating from the man.

“Can you save him?” He asked desperately but Nimueh looked grave.

“I don’t know. Even for a healer, you know Freya isn’t the strongest. There are some ailments where a physician is needed, not magic.”

“But we don’t have a physician.”

“Then let us hope that magic is enough. Move aside.”

Merlin did as he was told, watching helplessly from the side-lines as Nimueh bent over Arthur and tried to save his life.

MMM

“I don’t know what else to do.”

Freya’s words were little more than a whisper but Merlin flinched as if she had shouted them. For two days they had been working tirelessly to try and save Arthur, but the prince was still unconscious. Although he was still fighting, Merlin wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up. Arthur’s cries at the start might have been agony, but hearing them fade to small whimpers as his strength dwindled was worse.

Merlin sat slumped against the edge of the bed, exhaustion making him feel like he had aged a decade. He nodded despite not accepting Freya’s words. He couldn’t even feel angry at Mordred for sending Arthur that way. He couldn’t feel anything at all. For the first time in his life, he had felt like he knew what he was supposed to do. Arthur would have gone free, peace would have come across the land and they would have found a way to be together no matter what.

And now Arthur was dying.

“Merlin?”

The warlock ran a hand over his eyes, hiding himself away from Freya’s sympathetic gaze. Her hand touched his shoulder.

“I’m going to get something to eat. I’ll bring something for you.”

He might have nodded. He might not have. He didn’t know. He waited until Freya had left the tent before kneeling up and staring at Arthur. The prince looked as if he was fighting with everything he had and Merlin wished there was a way of lending him the strength he needed to win. But this was no ordinary bite and Merlin had heard horror stories for years about the potency of the venom of the creatures who lived in that part of the forest.

He pressed his lips to Arthur’s fevered brow. “Keep fighting,” he said, “you have to keep fighting. We had a plan, alright? A plan that was going to bring magic back and stop my people – your people – having to live in fear. I know that is your dream too, so damnit, Arthur, fight for that dream.”

There was no change, but Merlin hadn’t expected there to be. Arthur was too far gone. Sighing, he cushioned his head in his arms and stared at the prince. If someone had said not even a couple of months ago he would be fighting to save the Prince of Camelot’s life, Merlin would have thought them mad. How had so much changed in such little time?

His thoughts carried him away from the tent. Merlin didn’t fall asleep but he wasn’t truly there either, exhaustion taking hold. Arthur’s laboured breathing reminded him the man was still alive and Merlin clung onto that. This wasn’t just about them, regardless of how he felt. If Arthur died, Uther would destroy them all. He wouldn’t understand that it was an accident and that they were trying to save his son. He wouldn’t stop until he had killed them all and if Arthur was dead, then he would use that to unite the knights to the course, blaming it on magic and sending them with drawn swords.

The thought was so clear it was almost a vision. Merlin shuddered and forced himself back into the here and now. He stood up, taking a moment to clear his vision as dark spots darted back and forth. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. Staring at Arthur, Merlin took a deep breath as he made up his mind.

“I’m going to save you,” he told the unconscious man. “I’ll save our people, Arthur. I won’t let any harm come to them. I swear it.”

He moved towards the tent entrance before glancing back. “Just hold on,” he murmured before ducking out.

He blinked in the bright sunlight, having completely lost track of time. The brightness was painful to his exhausted eyes and Merlin lowered his gaze as he moved through the camp. He didn’t need to see where he was going; the route to Nimueh’s tent was one he could do with his eyes shut. He walked in, only to be pulled up short by the sight of both Edwin and Alvarr there. Merlin didn’t like either man, but he knew they detested each other.

“What’s going on?”

“Leave us,” Nimueh instructed and the two men left. Alvarr smirked at Merlin while Edwin gave him a measured gaze that made the warlock squirm. He waited until the tent flap had closed behind them before turning to his mistress. He lifted an eyebrow and Nimueh sighed.

“We’re preparing for war.”

“What?”

“Arthur is dying, Merlin. When word of this gets back to Camelot – and it will – we’re all as good as dead unless we fight back.”

Merlin couldn’t say anything, not when he had the same thoughts. He took a deep breath and Nimueh frowned at him.

“Unless you have a better idea?”

“You said a physician could save Arthur where magic could not,” he said. “Well, we’ve tried magic and you said it yourself; Arthur’s dying. Were you speaking the truth? Could a physician cure what ails him?”

“Impossible to say,” Nimeuh said. Then she relented. “Although a physician would have a better knowledge of what to do than we do. I warned you about those creatures when you were a child for a reason; we can’t protect against their poison. But it does not matter. You were the one who pointed out we don’t have a physician.”

“No,” Merlin said slowly, “Camelot does.”

“Gaius?”

“You know the physician?” Merlin knew he shouldn’t be surprised; Nimueh knew far more about Camelot than she had ever let on. “Arthur spoke of him a few times, he says he is a good man and Arthur believes that he disapproves of Uther’s actions.”

“And how are you planning to contact him?” Merlin didn’t answer and Nimueh took a step towards him, understanding dawning on her features. “No. I forbid it.”

“It’s that or death,” Merlin said. “For all of us, not just Arthur.”

“I’m still your mistress, regardless of how powerful you have become. You are not going.”

“I love him,” Merlin whispered. “I can’t stand by and watch him die.”

“If they find you, it will be your life that is forfeit.”

“And if we don’t save Arthur, that will happen anyway.” Merlin combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, but you can’t stop me. I’m going to Camelot. I’m going to find this physician, bring him back and we’re going to save Arthur and stop this turning into a war. I was the one who brought him here, it will be my fault if people die. I have to try.”

Nimueh looked like she was going to argue but then she sighed and nodded sharply. Merlin knew that although she hated Uther, she didn’t want war and blood rained down on them because of an accident. Arthur dying now didn’t feature in her plans. Merlin hoped at least some part of her was agreeing because she cared for Arthur – or, at least, cared who he was in relation to his mother.

“Wait until morning,” she instructed. Merlin opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand. “You’re exhausted, Merlin. You haven’t eaten properly for two days and you haven’t slept. You won’t even make it to the border the state you are in. If this is to work, you need to be able to get into the depths of the castle undetected.”

Merlin saw the sense in her argument and nodded. “I’ll find some supplies,” he murmured, backing out of the tent. This was hardly the first time he had entered somewhere dangerous to help his people. But it was the first time his heart had been on the line as well as his life.

He moved quickly back to his tent, grateful that Freya hadn’t returned. He didn’t know how he would tell her what he planned to do. Slipping onto the bed next to Arthur, Merlin stroked his hair back gently.

“I’m going to save you,” he whispered in Arthur’s ear. “But I need you to be strong. I need you to hang on until I get back. Can you do that? Please Arthur, don’t die.”

His words were simple but heartfelt. Mordred might have been the one who had pointed Arthur in the wrong direction and sent him to his death, but Merlin felt this was his fault. Arthur had asked him to let him go before they even crossed the shields all that time ago. If only Merlin had listened, Arthur wouldn’t be fighting for his life now.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to have been so sporadic with this story, real life got in the way more than I thought it would. Hopefully things should settle for a few weeks now!

Merlin left the following morning. He rose before dawn, gathering supplies. A pale-faced Freya helped him pack and Merlin knew she had heard what he planned to do. She didn’t try and discourage him though, something Merlin was eternally grateful for. If it wasn’t for his feelings for Arthur, he too would have wondered if he had completely lost his mind.

“Whatever happens,” he said quietly, “know I am doing this as much to save you as him.”

Freya nodded, standing on tiptoes to kiss his forehead before giving him a gentle push towards the shields.

“Go,” she said, “before we all die of old age waiting for you.”

The tension between them broke and Merlin grinned as he set off. He turned back as he passed through the shield and Freya smiled reassuringly at him. Just before the camp disappeared from view, Merlin realised Mordred was also watching him. That split-second revealed an inscrutable expression on Mordred face, then Merlin passed through the boundary and Mordred – along with the camp – vanished.

Merlin hoped he would see it again.

The sun rose as he plunged into the forest, letting his magic guide him towards Camelot. The leafy foliage hid him from view so Merlin used the same light he had used to track Arthur. It felt like a lifetime ago now.

He walked steadily during the day and knew he had made good progress by the time evening fell. He found a secluded spot and fell straight to sleep, but his dreams were tormented by Arthur’s fevered mutterings and Merlin woke after only a few hours, feeling ill himself. He remained wrapped in his blankets for a few moments, staring up at the stars and asking for answers. They did nothing but shine down on him, but Merlin took that as a sign. The night was a clear one and between them and the moon, he had more than enough light to see by. He stuffed his blanket back in his pack and got to his feet.

By the time dawn graced the horizon, he could see the outskirts of the forest. Merlin knew caution was more important than any magic right now. He concealed himself and dozed for an hour, hoping to take the edge off his exhaustion. He felt grouchy and uneasy and was glad no one was with him; he didn’t want to have to mind his temper right now.

Merlin spent the rest of a day in a ditch. He was sure there was a joke in it at his expense, but he was too uncomfortable and tense to see it. He had seen Camelot many times during his scrying but looking through a distorted bowl of water hadn’t given him a true appreciation of the size. The town was bustling and guards roamed everywhere. Merlin knew he had to get into the castle itself, but most people were questioned before they were granted access. Merlin wondered if it had always been like this or whether Arthur’s abduction had tightened security.

He did nothing but watch all day, absorbing as much as he could. All this time working for Nimueh and the lessons she had drilled into him began to pay off as Merlin began noticing patterns in the guards’ routes and which parts were left more exposed. At least with this being Uther’s castle, he didn’t have to worry about magical guards unlike a few of the places he had slipped into before.

The only time Merlin moved all day was when he was almost ridden down by a returning patrol. A quick spell caused the closest man to look the other way and Merlin was able to scurry back into the bushes, holding his breath and hoping his concealment charm held. As no one sounded the alarm, he knew it had, but vowed to watch his back as well as the castle. If he was going to be killed, he wanted to at least get close enough to the physician to press on him the need to travel into the forest.

When darkness claimed the land once more, Merlin stood up. He took his time, stretching out his limbs, releasing his magic and taking the chance to eat and drink something. He had a headache and knew he only had himself to blame for not drinking enough while holding a spell for so long. But he couldn’t delay any longer and once he had taken note of where the guards were on their rounds, he took off at a run, keeping low to the ground.

This was not the first time he had infiltrated a guarded keep and Merlin mildly wondered what Nimueh had been training him for as he kept his back pressed against a building, kept his breathing even and waited for the guards to walk past.

Despite the heir and prince missing, security wasn’t sure tight as Merlin had feared. There was an adequate gap in the guards’ rounds for him to slip into the courtyard and hide in the shadows. He kept his back against the stonework, although it felt strange rather than reassuring. He was too used to the forest; permanent structures reminded him of things he would rather forget.

But as he stood there, wondering foolishly how he was going to get into the actual castle itself, Merlin felt a presence touch his mind. It was vast and powerful; the likes of which Merlin had never felt before. He shuddered, trying to defend his thoughts the way Nimueh had taught him. But this was _Camelot_ , how was there a magic-user this strong in the kingdom itself?

The presence brushed through Merlin’s defences the way he would have brushed a cobweb aside. There were no words, as such, just an overwhelming urge to slip along the side of the castle and through a grate on the next wall. Merlin looked around, but there was no one around. The guards were on the far side of the courtyard and while they might see him dart up the steps, they wouldn’t see him go in the opposite direction. He had nothing to lose and moved silently.

As with the previous night, the moon was bright enough for Merlin to see his way without falling over anything – including his own feet. He swallowed hard when he saw the grate, but the presence invaded his mind again with the command to go through it. There was a sense of urgency this time and Merlin supposed he would be caught if he lingered. Hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, he took hold of the grating and tugged. It didn’t so much as creak.

A word rolled off his tongue and the metal bars swung easily to one side as if they were hinged. Merlin scrambled in and had just pulled them back into place when a flickering torch came around the side of the castle and a pair of guards walked past. They didn’t even glance at the grate and Merlin let out a long sigh when they were out of earshot.

He was in.

“ _Who are you?”_ he quested with his mind but again just received a feeling in return, this time of satisfaction. Rolling his eyes, he stood up and narrowly avoided banging his head. Remaining stooped, he moved as quickly as he could whole probing with his thoughts towards the consciousness.

“ _All in good time.”_ Merlin almost straightened up in surprise at receiving an answer, but stopped himself before his skull could collide with rock. “ _You have other matters to attend. Like where you are putting your feet.”_

Merlin glanced down and realised he had been walking blindly. There was a step in front of him and his heart raced as he cautiously lowered his foot. He had no intention of starving to death in a dark tunnel because he had broken his ankle not looking where he was going.

As curious as he was, Merlin knew the presence was right. He had to focus on here and now, otherwise Arthur was as good as dead. He used a trickle of magic to light the tunnel and quickened his pace, releasing the magic when he realised the tunnel was lightening.

He slowed, creeping forward. Silence greeted him in the room beyond, but the lit candles indicated the occupants could be back any moment. Merlin scrambled out of the tunnel, having to crawl under a tapestry to make it into the actual room. It appeared to be an armoury and Merlin gaped. He had never seen so many weapons in one place; the druids had never needed them to such an extent. He whistled appreciatively, then clapped a hand over his mouth and froze.

When it became obvious his blunder had gone unnoticed, Merlin forced himself to pull things together. He whispered a spell that would encourage soldiers to look the other way rather than at him and slipped from the room as fast as he dared. Once out in the corridor, he stopped again. He hadn’t considered how big the actual castle was and he had no idea which way would lead him to Gaius’ chambers. He spun in a circle, wondering what sort of spell would help him without being a blazing arrow.

He was almost back where he had started when a wooden plaque on the wall caught his attention. Merlin crossed over to it and a beaming grin spread over his face. Fate wanted him to save Arthur if it was literally pointing him in the right direction.

Merlin didn’t know the ways of court other than what he had heard from Arthur over the last few weeks. But he knew not many people roamed the corridor at night apart from guards and those up to mischief. Merlin ran, glancing frequently at the wall assume he did so to make sure he stayed on course. He had just reached a small staircase when is luck ran out, there was the steady clump of soldiers heading his way and Merlin had no where left to hide. He darted up the stairs and through the door even as the soldiers passed them.

Steeling himself, Merlin knew he had to act strong, the way Nimueh had always drilled into him. He turned, and was met by an old man with a stern expression on his face.

“What do you think you are doing, barging in here like that? Even if a loved one is dying, knocking isn’t too much of a hardship, is it?”

Merlin winced at the man’s choice of words. A loved one _was_ dying. But then he thought properly about what had just been said and he gaped.

“Are you Gaius?”

“Are you messing around, boy?”

Merlin grinned. It made sense. Everyone in the castle would know who the Court Physician was. The man was looking at him like he had lost his senses.

“I don’t have time to explain,” Merlin said, glancing around the room. It was obvious now who Gaius was; the room with filled with herbs and tonics. “But I need your help. Get your bag.”

“What precisely do you think you can say to make an old man hurry from his rooms in the dead of night after being so rudely awoken?”

Merlin glanced at the door, knowing his next words would incriminate himself.

“The prince needs you.”

Gaius looked stunned and Merlin wondered if he should fetch the man a stool or some water.

“And you are-?”

Merlin let his magic answer for him, gold flooding is eyes momentarily. From what Nimueh had said, Gaius wasn’t closed to magic. Still, shock passed over his expression and he grabbed Merlin’s arm, drawing him towards a candle.

“We’re don’t have time for this. Arthur’s been poisoned by one of the creatures of old and we can’t save him. Please, you have to-,”

“Merlin?”

His name silenced him far more effectively than anything else Gaius could have said. Merlin snatched his arm back, feeling his magic rise. He kept in control though.

“You know me?”

“You’re Hunith’s boy. That _is_ you, isn’t it, Merlin?”

“Hunith is dead,” Merlin said coldly, “she was murdered years ago.”

“I know.” Gaius sighed and Merlin felt his magic settle. Whoever this old man was, he wasn’t a threat. “I tried to find you after I heard, but you had vanished.”

Merlin could do nothing but stare. Before Arthur, he had never even heard Gaius’ name, yet the old man knew him and his magic wasn’t detecting any sort of danger. Gaius reached towards him again, but then seemed to think better of it and sat down on a stool. He gestured for Merlin to take the second one but the warlock hesitated.

“We don’t have much time,” he began but Gaius lifted a hand.

“If you think I’m running off into the forest with you without first hearing some answers, then you discredit your mother by being an idiot.”

Merlin’s lips twitched. He couldn’t help it. He sat down. Gaius’ humour was the same as his and Merlin realised he felt at ease in the old man’s company, despite knowing nothing about him.

“How do you-,”

“Do you love Arthur?”

It was not the question Merlin was expecting and he blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You flinched earlier. And I can’t think why someone of your…talent would sneak this far into the castle to aid him unless you were in love with him.”

Merlin hoped the candlelight was too dim for Gaius to see the blush he could feel building. “We have…something,” Merlin said lamely. “A fondness, you could say.”

“How did that happen? You’re his enemy?”

“And he’s mine!” Merlin was not going to be made out as the villain of this piece. He combed his fingers through his hair. “He has a…stubborn charm.”

“He’s an obstinate prat, I know.” Gaius smiled at the shocked expression on Merlin’s face. “But he’s a good man. He has a good heart and he tries to do what is best by his people. All of them.”

“I know,” Merlin said quietly. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him otherwise.”

“Ah, so there is love.” Gaius looked far too smug and Merlin wondered if he could hide under the table until his ears stopped burning.

“You knew my mother?” It was a painful question to ask, he had spent so long trying to keep her memory in the back of his mind so it didn’t cloud his judgement that to hear her name mentioned so casually in Camelot of all places had caught him off guard. Gaius nodded gently.

“Well enough that she confided in me about you. I met you once, you know. You can’t have been more than five summers old and already powerful.”

Merlin studied the table top. “Did you hear how she was killed?”

Gaius was quiet. Merlin didn’t know if the old man knew the truth or just knew that Merlin needed to talk about this. When Merlin looked up, he realised his eyes were swimming with tears - tears he had kept back for so many years. Nimueh didn’t tolerate weakness.

“It was my fault,” he whispered. “I had been practicing out in the open and Cendred’s men saw me. They came for me and she tried to stop them.”

“You were a boy,” Gaius said. He put a gentle hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

People had been telling Merlin that ever since he had stumbled across the druids, a terrified, grieving and out of control boy. He had never believed them, nor did he believe Gaius now. But hearing him say it without judgement in his voice helped calm Merlin and he took a gulping breath.

“Arthur’s dying,” he said. “We don’t know what else to give him, what else to do. Ni-my mistress says that a physician might be able to help because you’ll at least know what to give him.”

Gaius sighed, looking old and weary. Merlin wondered if it was the news about Arthur – of whom it was clear the physician was fond.

“Nimueh,” the man muttered and Merlin jumped. For his tiny slip to mean something to Gaius, he must know her. “I should have known that is where you would have been. She would have kept you hidden away until you were ready.”

Uneasy, Merlin stood up and backed towards the door. “Who are you to know so much?”

“One who has seen far too many winters,” Gaius replied gravely. He also stood and reached for what appeared to be his medicine bag. “But if that foolish boy has gone and got himself bitten again, then you are right, there is no time to lose.”

“Again?” Merlin asked, his lips twitching. It didn’t surprise him that Arthur rushed headlong into any battle, regardless of what it was against. It also didn’t surprise him that the headstrong prince didn’t always win.

“I have a collection of herbs I never needed before Arthur came of age, ones to make sure I can combat any poison,” Gaius said. A fleeting smile flickered across his face and Merlin returned it.

“Head into the forest,” Merlin said. “Someone will find you and lead you to the others. You won’t be harmed, I swear.”

“Why can’t you lead me?”

“There’s someone here,” Merlin mused thoughtfully, “someone I should meet.”

He was determined that he would locate the powerful consciousness and find out who had been defying Uther for all these years. Gaius looked stunned, then he nodded.

“Yes, I suppose you should.”

“You know the one I seek?”

“I know you will find more than you are looking for if you venture into the depths of the castle,” Gaius said cryptically but Merlin stored the information away, knowing he had been given a clue as to where to go. “But I also know if you are anything like your mother, there is nothing that I can do to stop you.”

Merlin had never felt so flattered as he did in that moment.


	16. Chapter 16

Merlin held his breath as the guard marched neatly past. When the clanking of their boots faded to nothing, he exhaled sharply and slipped out from behind the tapestry that had concealed him. Checking the way was clear, Merlin ran a hand through his hair and tried to control his erratic heartbeat.

It proved a challenge though.  There was a dragon, an actual dragon, here in Camelot. To say he had been shocked when he followed the voice and found himself face to face with such a creature was an understatement. Merlin was grateful no one had heard his yelp, as he was certain Arthur would hold it over him for all eternity if he knew.

But once the shock was out of the way, Merlin discovered the dragon knew him. And Arthur, although Merlin was sure the prince would have mentioned the dragon had he known it was there. While they had been ignorant, the creature seemed to know a lot about them.

Merlin’s ears still burnt when he thought of the dragon’s words; what they were destined to achieve and the good they would do together. Merlin wondered if the creature knew the ways in which they had already been “united”. The dragon had made it clear that neither Nimueh or Uther had a place in this world though. Merlin was tormented with thoughts about what the dragon wanted him to do to bring about this supposed peace.

Now was not the time to worry about that though. Merlin knew he had to get out of the castle before dawn or he would be seen.

He had helped Gaius slip from the castle in the same way he had entered, despite the old man’s protest that no one would challenge him just walking down the front steps. Merlin couldn’t risk it. Freya was meeting Gaius in the forest to guide him to Arthur immediately rather than waiting for Merlin – it had been agreed before he left in case he was caught. But Merlin couldn’t risk anyone following Gaius.

After a few wrong turns, Merlin knew he was on the right path for the armoury finally. It was the only way out that he knew and there was no voice in his head telling him which way to turn this time. The same candle from before was burning dimly, but Merlin had already entered the room when he realised it was no longer empty.

The knight didn’t immediately see him. He was too busy with his breeches around his ankles and thrusting into what looked like a serving boy. The boy wasn’t complaining though and Merlin knew it was mutual. He held his breath, trying to edge away, but the boy saw him as he reached the door, letting out a gasp that couldn’t be mistake for pleasure. Merlin swore and turned to run even as the knight let out a yell, struggling to reach his sword and his trousers at the same time.

Merlin’s eyes flared gold and the knight became more entangled in his clothing, falling forward and hitting his head on the table.

“Sorcerer!” The boy shrieked and Merlin winced. He sped for the secret entrance, but already could hear footsteps thundering towards the room. He scrambled for the latch and yanked the fake shield away, one foot lifting to rest in the tunnel.

“You killed our prince!”

Merlin froze. He knew he didn’t have time for this, that any second would result in the guards bursting into the room. But he couldn’t help himself.

“What?”

“You and your kind,” the boy spat. He grabbed his lover’s cloak, wrapping it around himself as he stared haughtily at Merlin. For a servant, he had a lot of spirit and Merlin respected that.

“And that bothers you?”

Nimueh had always spoken of how loved Arthur was to his kingdom, it had been why she was convinced Uther would want him back just to pacify the people. Merlin hadn’t really believed her, not having yet Arthur. But she appeared to be right. A servant like this wouldn’t be known to the prince, yet there was genuine anguish in his voice.

“He was our future,” the boy said, “and you murdered him! Murderer!”

His voice rose to a yell again and Merlin knew he _really_ had to go. He scrambled into the tunnel, but couldn’t stop himself from turning back one last time.

“He-,”

He never got the chance to tell the boy his beloved prince was still alive – providing Gaius got to the camp alright. The armoury door burst open and several Knights and guards spilled in, weapons drawn. Merlin couldn’t tell the two groups apart but he knew if they all thought the same as the boy, it didn’t matter. They would all kill him, regardless of rank.

He turned and ran. Just in time, he remembered to duck the low ceiling, but the men were already at the entrance. Merlin threw a spell wildly behind him, throwing them back. But even knowing what would happen if he was caught, he couldn’t bring himself to kill. It went against everything he had fought his whole life to achieve and he wasn’t going to betray his ideals now.

His hesitation cost him. Something caught around his ankles and Merlin fell heavily. He landed with a cry, stunned as the air drove from his lungs. A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to move, to run, but he couldn’t. Already, men were in the passageway and by the time Merlin had kicked free of whatever had hobbled him, they were on top of him. Rough hands grabbed his arms, hauling him to his feet. Their grip was biting and Merlin tried to shake himself free. He knew he was going to have to use magic again and let the power fill him up, aware he would only get one shot at this.

But as he released the power, one of the men struck him around the head. The magic faded to nothing, a small whisper of a breeze and nothing more. Merlin clung to consciousness, but he had no control over either his body or his power as the men dragged him out of the tunnel and back into the armoury.  

He hit the floor hard, the men being far from gentle.

“You think you can murder our prince, then come for our king?” One spat and Merlin tried to sit up. He knew he was in big trouble, but the blow has left him disorientated and a boot to the ribs drove him back again.

“No,” he gasped, knowing if he couldn’t get the men to listen to him, they would kill him right here, right now. “He’s not. I haven’t-,”

A second kick stole the words – and the breath – from him. Merlin curled into a ball, the instinct to protect himself overcoming any rational thought. When a shape pain exploded through his wrist, a scream ripped from his throat, his magic lashing out and throwing everyone back from him. But there were too many men and Merlin had nowhere to run, even if he could. The men instantly closed back in on him, fury etched into every expression.

“What is going on?!” a voice thundered, drawing Merlin back from the edge of darkness.  The men parted and he looked up as a knight strode towards him. This one was definitely a knight, not just because of the cloak but the way he held himself. There was something familiar about him but Merlin couldn’t place what as he struggled to remain conscious.

“Sorcerer,” one of the men spat, nudging Merlin with his foot. Merlin heard a whimper before realising it was him and vowed he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  “Could be the one to have killed-,”

“He’s not dead!” The man snapped before visibly controlling himself. He took a breath and Merlin realised he was one of the Knights who Merlin had ambushed to get Arthur on his own. “I know what the king has said, but I refuse to give up hope.”

Merlin didn’t know if he was talking to the men or himself. But the warlock tried shifting, only for his battered body to protest. He fell weakly back against the cold floor, but his movement had only drawn attention to himself.

“Take him to the dungeon and lock him up. Inform the king.”

“But....”

“If you kill him here and now, we have no chance of finding out what happened to Arthur. “

Rough hands grabbed Merlin’s arms, twisting them painfully behind his back. The men all froze, staring at each other, until one found a length of rope and secured his hands. Another gagged him with an old rag and two took hold of his upper arms, dragging him across the room.

Normally, Merlin would have laughed. Such restraints – as Arthur himself had discovered – wouldn’t normally stop him. But with his head swimming and darkness tugging at the corner of his vision, he couldn’t focus on his magic as he was pulled out of the room and back the way he had come from.

Only this time, he knew it would be no friendly chat waiting for him when they got there.

MMM

It had been years since he last roamed the forest like this. His knees and back were aching but Gaius knew the way to the Druids camp. He hadn’t told Merlin that, not sure if the young man would be able to handle more revelations. Gaius himself wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Finding Hunith’s boy while discovering the prince was alive but fighting for his life – and through no fault of the Druids.

The girl in front of him looked over her shoulder and Gaius gestured for her to continue. She had been waiting where Merlin had said she would be and the fear in her eyes when Merlin wasn’t with him revealed her to be a friend of the warlock. Gaius was glad; Hunith would have wanted him to have friends.

He let her lead, just in case his directions were off in his old age. He didn’t want to stop though.  His bag hit him with every step, a constant reminder the prince of Camelot was once again waiting for Gaius to save his life.

He should have been prepared when the girl suddenly vanished. But his heart stuttered and Gaius paused. Then she reappeared.

“Sorry,” she said, “I forgot you might not be expecting that.”

“I have seen more than my fair share of random things, my dear,” Gaius said. In truth, he hadn’t seen a spell that strong for years and knew Nimueh’s powers had not diminished since he had last seen her. He strode forward and crossed the magical border.

Despite his words, Gaius still gaped as the camp materialised in front of him. The closest people spared them a glance but then went back to their tasks. Gauss could only assume they were used to people coming and going and the fact he was with the girl spared him suspicion.

“Where’s Merlin?”

The loud voice belonged to a youth who didn’t look as if he had grown into himself yet but was full of arrogance. Gaius merely looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and the lad squirmed.

“Coming,” the girl said. She glanced at Gaius, then back at the boy. “Nimueh?”

“Here.”

Gaius felt as if he had fallen through time. Her voice was the same, so was her figure and physical appearance. Heads still turned as she walked past. But as his old enemy and even older friend came to a stop in front of him, Gaius saw there was a weight in her eyes that hadn’t been there twenty years ago.

“Time has not been kind, old man,” she said and Gaius dipped his head, not fazed by her rudeness.

“I could say the same about you, Nimueh.”

She let out a hollow laugh, tossing back her hair. “It is not time that causes me grief, but your prince. Tell me, where is Merlin? Have you betrayed my ward?”

“If you think I would ever harm an innocent, and Hunith’s son nonetheless, then you never knew me.”

“He stayed behind,” the girl said, upset obvious in her voice. Nimueh nodded.

“There are answers there he seeks,” she said. Somehow, her lack of apparent concern for her own ward didn’t surprise Gaius. He drew himself up, knowing they were wasting time. As long as Merlin was careful, he would be fine, his display of power reassured Gaius of that.

“Where’s Arthur?” Gaius asked, pulling his bag around and already preparing to reach into it. “Where’s the prince?”

He tried to keep his tone neutral, knowing the fewer people who knew how close he was to Arthur, the better for both their sakes. The look Nimueh shot him indicated she saw straight through his ruse, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned on her heel and strode off, her dress sweeping in folds behind her. Gaius hurried after her, anxious to see Arthur for himself. He hadn’t believed the prince was dead the way Uther had been implying, but he also knew the young man was in enemy hands.

Nimueh stepped out the way, allowing Gaius to enter a tent. It looked homely, with a few belongings scattered around. From the little he had seen and heard, he assumed this was Merlin’s tent. But thoughts of the warlock fled his mind when he had laboured breathing.

“Arthur!” Gaius exclaimed, hurrying towards a small bed. Arthur was lying on it, sweat covering his upper body as he tossed and turned in fevered dreams. Gaius instantly knelt down next to him, peeling back his eyelids and taking his pulse. It was erratic and weak and the physician was surprised Arthur was still alive. Then again, Arthur had always been a fighter.

“What bit him?”

“Maybe I cursed him?”

“Then you wouldn’t have sent your ward into Camelot to fetch me. Stop playing games, Nimueh, he is dying.”

There was a pained expression on Nimueh’s face when Gaius glanced at her and he knew she was aware of the fact.

“We’re not sure,” she admitted. “He had already been bitten by the time we found him and he isn’t responding to magic.”

“The poison is still in his blood then,” Gaius spoke quickly, lifting his bag next to Arthur as he spoke. The prince moaned, brow furrowed as he turned away. Gaius placed a fatherly hand on his forehead.

“Shh, my boy,” he murmured. “Save your strength.”

“You do care for him. “

“So do you, or you wouldn’t have risked Merlin,” Gaius retorted. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me save Igraine’s son?”

A mixture of emotions shot over her face but Gaius paid her no attention. He continued his examination of the prince, then sent the girl for water when she slipped into the tent. She looked to Nimueh, who nodded.

“He is a friend, Freya, he means us no harm.”

The girl nodded and Gaius rummaged in his bag. He managed to coax Arthur into swallowing a sleeping draft, knowing if the young man could regain some strength, he had a much greater chance of surviving. By the time Freya returned, Gaius had out everything he needed and a list of herbs and plants that needed to be gathered. Again, Nimueh dismissed Freya with merely a nod.

“She must truly love or fear you to help Arthur in such a manner,” Gaius commented as he grounded a few herbs. Nimueh sat down on the edge of the bed. Gaius wondered if she noticed the way her hands smoothed down the covers. Maybe she hadn’t changed as much as he initially believed?

“Merlin has a great number of friends here, a lot who love him. Over the last month, they have seen what Arthur has come to mean to him. She does it for Merlin.”

“Merlin and Arthur,” Gaius said with a fond laugh, setting aside his work for a moment as he studied Arthur. Already the tonic was working and the prince calming. “I never would have guessed that outcome when we heard he had been taken.”

“A sorcerer and a Pendragon, what is so unusual about that?”

Gaius knew she was provoking him. But he didn’t rise to it, instead staring sadly at Arthur. “I thought Uther had beat it out of him.”

“From what I hear, Arthur was no innocent when he came here, Gaius. He has loved. He just learnt how to be cautious and discreet.”

Gaius smiled. Nimueh couldn’t know how her words had just soothed years of concern. He had always worried that Arthur was lonely, cut off from love in a way only Uther would manage. It warmed his heart to know he was wrong.

He was allowed to work in silence after that. All afternoon he toiled away, forcing tonics down Arthur’s throat however much the prince tried to turn away. As Arthur burnt with fever, Gaius toiled to save him. But as the sun set, he sat down, exhausted and famished. He was used to having several servants at his beck and call when treating an injury this severe.

“Well?” Nimueh hadn’t left all afternoon and Gaius knew there was more to this tale than he knew. It didn’t surprise him Arthur was alive; he was as stubborn as his father but had his mother’s charm. It was hard to hate him and Gaius just knew he had won Nimueh over.

“If he lasts the night, he should be awake by this time tomorrow,” Gaius murmured. He stared up at the bed, willing Arthur to hear him. They weren’t as close as they used to be, but Gaius still saw the prince as the son he had never had. Nimueh nodded and finally rose, leaving the tent in a sweep of her dress.

“You hear me?” Gaius whispered. “You have to live. Please Arthur. Live.”


	17. Chapter 17

Something was wrong.

Merlin didn’t know what. He knew it wasn’t the pain lancing through every inch of his body or the way his wrists felt like they were breaking. It wasn’t the cold draft playing across his exposed torso or his freezing cold feet. It was something else.

Opening his eyes, the warlock groaned. The guards had dragged him straight to the dungeons and continued their beating even while one had gone to fetch the king. If Uther had arrived, Merlin had never known – one particularly hard kick had caused him to black out and he didn’t fight the darkness. While he was unfocused, his magic was out of reach anyway. At least being out cold, he couldn’t feel the pain.

His magic!

That was it! He couldn’t feel his magic. Merlin stared around the cell, tugging at the chains binding him to the ceiling. They didn’t give; his whole body swung before he realised his feet were a foot off the floor. Unable to stop himself, he cried out, feeling the cold metal of the restraints digging into his wrists as it took his weight.

“Does it hurt?” A cold voice said, causing Merlin to instantly swallow his next whimper of pain. “Good.”

Despite having spent his life hiding and fighting against the King of Camelot, Merlin had no idea what the man looked like. He forced himself to focus as Uther came into the cell, struggling to ignore the whip draped over the man’s shoulder. The king had a solid build, but the grey hairs and lines around his face revealed he was past his prime. Hatred sparked from his expression and Merlin struggled to see any hint of Arthur in the man. Then the king’s lip curled and although it was with hatred rather than mirth, Merlin saw his prince. It made it harder; seeing the man he loved in the figure he knew was about to torture him.

“I had those restraints made in the old days, where the threat of magic was greater. You petty sorcerers, thinking you can still change things but I won. It seems their power has not faded despite not having used them for years. You’re going nowhere.”

Merlin stared at him. He didn’t say anything, adamant that his trembling voice wouldn’t betray the terror he felt. Uther couldn’t know, couldn’t _ever_ know, just how scared Merlin was. He drew on the lessons that Nimueh had drilled into him, schooling his expression into one of indifference. Uther glared at him.

“There will be no escape, sorcerer. I’m going to have my men torture your magic from you and only when you are a broken shell and begging for death will I be merciful and send you to the pyre.”

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew Merlin’s attention. He looked over to see a few knights standing there. The tall one from before was there. He looked drawn and haggard and Merlin wondered if he was the only man who believed there was hope for Arthur.

That gave him an idea. He drowned out Uther’s words, letting the man prattle on about hatred and magic. It wasn’t anything that he hadn’t heard before and Merlin was not going to let his enemy’s words fill his mind. He waited until there was a pause, then took a deep breath to steady his voice.

“That’s the first thing you say to me?” He said quietly, grateful his voice didn’t shake. Although his words were soft, he knew by the way the knights all shifted that they could hear him. “You threaten me with torture and death and never once ask about your son?”

“How dare you talk of Arthur!” Uther snapped the whip from his shoulder, sending it slashing through the air. Merlin lifted his chin defiantly.

“You were given the choice,” he said. “You were given the chance to trade for him, to get your heir back in your castle without any bloodshed. He would have been safe and you refused. You left him, you betrayed him!”

The knights shifted again and Merlin knew his words were having the desired impact. The knights hadn’t known about the trade; they hadn’t known there had been the chance to save Arthur.

“You murdered him!”

Merlin looked at him steadily. “If I had murdered the Crown Prince, do you really think I would have been sneaking into Camelot?”

Uther snarled in fury. He gestured and one of the men walked in. He handed his king a leather strip and Merlin tried to wrench his head away. There was nothing he could do though; Uther gagged him tightly and then moved to stand behind him.

“Let this be a lesson to all,” he announced. “Magic will never be permitted in Camelot.”

Merlin grunted with the first blow of the whip. He was adamant that he would keep quiet, that he wouldn’t let Uther witness his pain. But the king’s blows were hard and the whip was cruel. On the fifth stroke, Merlin could feel his whole body trembling, sweat running down his chest and mingling with the blood as the tail of the whip struck his chest.

By the tenth blow, he couldn’t hold back the scream, thankful it was muffled in the gag but aware by Uther’s chuckle that it was audible. Tears fell unchecked from his eyes and Merlin could feel his hold on consciousness slipping. Just before he slid into the darkness, an image of Arthur swum in his mind’s eyes. Not the fevered weak prince who Merlin had come on this mission to save, but the healthy Arthur, laughing in the sunlight with the golden beams glinting off his hair.

Merlin clung to that vision with everything he had, losing himself in it as his lover’s father continued to whip him. His back was shredded, his body in agony and blood streaming from the wounds. But Merlin didn’t make another sound.

At the twentieth blow, he passed out.

His feet touching the floor jolted him back to consciousness as pain radiated through his entire being. Merlin whimpered, then realised the sound had escaped him properly. The gag had been removed, although Merlin could feel the corners of his mouth had split from where it had cut into him.

“Quiet,” a voice said, although not unkindly. Merlin scrabbled for purchase, placing his feet firmly on the floor, then promptly toppled forward and grunted as his chained wrists stopped him from falling. A hand helped steady him and Merlin felt his knees buckle as the chain continued to lower. When he was kneeling on the ground, he finally looked up.

Once again, the same knight was standing in front of him. He dropped to his knees and Merlin flinched back, expecting this to be a new form of torture. The knight didn’t come any closer but offered out a cup. Merlin reached out a shackled hand and took it, aware he was trembling. But he didn’t ask for help as he brought the cup to his lips. Before he drank, he looked at the knight.

“Is it poison?” He asked bluntly, his voice rough and hoarse. The man shook his head.

“The king wants you alive.”

Merlin nodded, regretted the action, and then drunk. The liquid was cool and fresh, a balm to his throat. He drunk his fill and looked up again.

“What do you want?” Until the cuffs were off, Merlin knew he was helpless. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make it as hard as he could for his enemies to break him though.

“Is it true what you said?” The man asked, not meeting Merlin’s eye. “That he is alive?”

Relief coursed through Merlin. His plan had worked! He swallowed hard, willing his voice to be strong.

“Yes,” he said simply. “He’s alive. At least, he was the last time I saw him.”

In a few short sentences, Merlin summed up how Arthur had been bitten and he had come to Camelot to fetch Gaius.

“We had let him go,” Merlin said. “It was over. Uther had won; he wasn’t bargaining for Arthur. He didn’t care at all!”

His frustration must have shown for the knight made a sudden movement. When Merlin looked at him, cautious, the man attempted to smile.

“You care for him, don’t you?”

“I love him,” Merlin said. He didn’t see the point in lying. This man clearly cared for Arthur as well and he was the only one now who seemed to care that the prince was alive and technically still a prisoner.

“And does he love you?”

Merlin smiled, ignoring the way it opened the wounds on his lips. He nodded. “He does. It’s why we were letting him go, I wouldn’t see him hurt.”

The man nodded. “I don’t know if I can get you out,” he said apologetically, “but I can try and talk sense into Uther. You’re not the murderer he thinks you are.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have magic, that’s enough for Uther. I may as well have murdered a hundred men; he wouldn’t treat me any different.”

The fact the knight didn’t try and defend his king meant Merlin knew Uther’s cruelty was common knowledge. The clang of the door made him look up and he saw the knight disappearing down the corridor without a backwards glance. But Merlin didn’t care. He had a potential ally, that was all that mattered.

Making the most of the time he was on the floor, Merlin curled up, wincing as it tugged on the wounds on his back and shut his eyes. He was going to need his strength if he was going to survive this.

MMM

Arthur’s eyes opened.

For a moment, he could only lie there, staring at the canvas above his head and trying to make sense of things. The last thing he remembered was being out in the forest and Merlin and Mordred had both been there. Merlin had looked terrified and then there had been a sudden pain. After that, nothing.

Arthur shifted, brow crumpled as he tried to make sense of things. Merlin must have brought him back to the camp and they had used magic to save him, it was the only explanation. Arthur figured the whole thing had only happened a few hours ago and he tried to move.

“Easy, Arthur,” a familiar voice said. A hand landed on his shoulder and Arthur turned his head, looking up into Gaius’ concerned face. Arthur blinked. He looked around again. He was definitely still in Merlin’s tent, but that didn’t explain the Court Physician standing over him.

“Wha-?”

“You were bitten, Arthur. You’ve been unconscious for days.”

Arthur shrugged off Gaius’ hand and pressed his own against the bed, forcing himself to sit up. His vision swum alarmingly and Arthur would have fallen back if Gaius hadn’t steadied him. His weakness shocked him, and made him accept the truth that he had been unconscious for some time. That still didn’t explain what Gaius was doing here and Arthur didn’t stop moving until he was resting back on the pillows, panting with the effort.

“What’s going on?” He said, grateful that his voice didn’t break this time. He swallowed, then coughed and instantly, a cup of water was pressed into his hand. Arthur took it, turning his head to thank his lover. But Merlin wasn’t there. Freya was. Arthur looked around. Merlin wasn’t in the tent. Wondering if he was resting after looking after him, Arthur took a sip of the water. Then he noticed how grave Gaius was looking despite Arthur being awake.

“Where is he?” Arthur didn’t think about the fact Gaius might not know who he was talking about. Alarm drove away his weakness and Arthur was fully prepared to get out of the bed entirely. Gaius pressed him down again, silent.

“Where is he?!” Arthur knew something was wrong. Gaius shouldn’t be here; Merlin should. Their places had been swapped and Arthur knew that couldn’t mean anything good for his lover. He tried to rise again and this time, Gaius let him. Arthur swung his legs out of bed, stood up and promptly sat back down again, his limbs trembling and the room spinning at his movement.

“You’re sick, Sire. You could have died. You need to rest.”

“What I need, physician,” Arthur snapped, “is for someone to tell me where Merlin is.”

“You sound like your father when you speak like that,” Nimueh said.

Arthur flinched. He looked around as Nimueh entered and the scowl on her face did nothing to reassure him of Merlin’s safety.

“Where is he?”

“He went to get help for you. The way you are acting, I’m not sure it was worth it.”

The scolding made him flush. He had spent so long trying to convince Nimueh he was nothing like his father, that he was a better man, and the first thing he did upon waking was to act like a spoilt brat. Arthur took a deep breath through his nose, holding it before exhaling steadily through his mouth, controlling himself even as he braced, making to stand again. Gaius realised what he was about to do.

“Arthur, you can’t, unless you want to bring your fever back.”

“I’ll be fine, he needs me.” Arthur wasn’t sure if they weren’t telling him what had happened to Merlin, or they genuinely didn’t know. All Arthur knew was that Merlin had saved his life by coming after him in the forest and Arthur fully intended to repay the favour.

“How will you help him?”

“I will return to Camelot. Once I am there, I can secure his release. “

“If you go to Camelot right now, your father won’t trust a word you say, ever again.”

Arthur opened his mouth to ask what Nimueh meant. Then he caught a reflection of himself in the water jug on the table. Despite it being distorted and Arthur having only just woken from a fever that could have claimed his life, no one could deny he had been treated well. His skin was tanned and there wasn’t a mark on him other than the bite. He realised what Nimueh meant; his father would either think he was a traitor or he had been spelled to turn against his own people.  Marching into Camelot and demanding the release of a sorcerer – if Merlin was indeed still in the castle – wasn’t going to help anyone.

“We can’t just sit here!” Arthur protested. “He wasn’t prepared to trade for me, there is no way he will give Merlin up.”

“There might be a way,” Nimueh said slowly. She moved across the tent until she was standing in front of Arthur. He had to tilt his head back to look at her and Arthur suddenly felt extremely young. This woman had been his mother’s lover, she had lived in the Courts and palaces and since then, had been leading a group of renegade Druids, organised enough to kidnap the prince of Camelot. He didn’t think there was anything she couldn’t do and Arthur felt like he had never achieved anything in all his years of trying compared to her.

Nimueh reached down, taking his chin in her hand. There was a time where Arthur would have pulled away from the contact, but he didn’t as much as blink.

“You’re not going to like it though. “

“No,” Gaius said.  His hand rested on Arthur’s shoulders.  “He’s has been through enough.”

“I can do it,” Arthur protested, fully aware that he sounded like a young child. “Whatever it is.”

“No-,”

“Enough, Gaius.” Arthur pushed off the physician’s hand and stood. It took him a moment to steady himself, but he drew himself up to his full height. “I am not a child to be pondered to. I am the Prince of Camelot and my duty is to my people. These Druids are camped in our borders, that makes them, makes Merlin, my people. I will not shy away from my duty because you are concerned. I thank you for that concern, but this is my choice to make and I have made it.”

Gaius took a step back and dipped his head in respect. Arthur returned the gesture, realising this was the first time he had pulled the prince card on Gaius. He normally liked being able to act like any other young man around the physician; Gaius had never treated him any different. Arthur wondered how much meeting Merlin had changed him; both his mind and his heart.

Reaching over, Arthur put his hand on Gaius’ shoulder, feeling the irony of their role reversals here in all places.

“I can’t let anything happen to him,” he murmured, too soft for Nimueh to hear. “Especially not if he went to Camelot for me.”

Gaius nodded, and this time, Arthur could see understanding in his expression. Gaius knew what it was like to be in love, and Arthur knew because of that alone, he would let Arthur do whatever he felt he had to.

The prince turned to Nimueh. Despite his speech, he was nervous. He could only assume by the fact he wasn’t under guard that she had agreed to Merlin asking her to let him go, although what had changed her mind, Arthur had no idea. But he hadn’t stayed around to find out. This whole situation had been brought about by his impatience.

She had also said he wouldn’t like her plan. But Arthur was a Pendragon, regardless of how he felt about his father. He wouldn’t back down and instead lifted his chin.

“What do I have to do?” he asked, relieved his voice didn’t betray his never. Nimueh looked at him, then snapped her fingers. A set of manacles appeared in her hand.

“You must become our prisoner again,” she said quietly, “and this time, we will make your father an offer he can’t refuse.”


	18. Chapter 18

Arthur lent his throbbing head back on the post behind him. Once again, his hands were bound behind his back and he was trapped. Nimueh had been apologetic as she ordered the men to beat him and Arthur hadn’t resisted, not wanting guilt to plague them when he had been the one to agree to the plan. He asked Nimueh to bind him first, knowing his training would take over and he would react as soon as the pain grew too great.

The men had been thorough, making sure their blows left vivid bruises although they were careful not to break anything. Gaius had given him something for the pain, the frown on his face showing he didn’t agree with this plan. Arthur didn’t see what choice they had; Nimueh wanted Merlin back as much as he did. Recovering from the poisonous bite helped speed things up; he already looked weak. He already _was_ weak.

A beam of light slid across the floor and Arthur looked up as Nimueh entered. She crouched in front of him and gently dabbed at the blood on his split lip. Arthur turned his head.

“I thought it was supposed to look bad,” he muttered. He didn’t trust her and wouldn’t have agreed to this at all if he hadn’t seen the look in her eye. She cared for her ward. It was those feelings Arthur trusted in and he hoped he wasn’t mistaken.

“Not unnecessarily so. It’s supposed to look like we’ve been doing this the entire time.”

“Merlin will tell them I’m alive,” Arthur said. He shifted until he could look up at her. “They’ll know my father betrayed me.”

It hurt to say it so bluntly. But Arthur didn’t see what else he could call it. Uther had been given the chance, and instead had sentenced Arthur to - what he believed - death just so he could rile the knights up into hunting down the sorcerers. He knew the knights love for their prince was stronger than their hatred for magic. This had been the perfect spark for his inferno.

“Next time, it will be public.” Nimueh settled in front of him. “It’s time I told you the plan.”

Arthur’s mind was spinning by the time she left. The plan was so outrageous that he believed it might work, as long as the people were behind him the way he believed they were. It would be no secret message that the prince was being held hostage this time. Nimueh was going to drag him into the lower town and let the people see their tortured prince on his knees. Uther would be given the choice: Arthur’s life for the release of the sorcerer.

For most of the people, magic meant nothing to them. It was just avoided to dodge the king’s wrath. They wouldn’t care about Merlin.

But Uther couldn’t refuse. If he did, he would lose the trust of his people and they wouldn’t support him. Not if they knew he would choose his hatred over the security of the kingdom. Arthur was more than his son, he was heir to the throne and the people wouldn’t accept their security risked for a hatred they didn’t understand.

Arthur didn’t like the plan. It would mean he would have to submit, to look as if he had broken. But he was prepared to go through with it. It might mean that he never saw Merlin again after the trade had taken place, but it would mean Merlin was alive. He would be safe and Arthur realised that was all he cared about right now. With looking broken and defeated, Uther would also have no reason to suspect that Arthur had lost his loyalty as soon as his father had condemned him.

“Arthur?”

The prince looked up as Gaius ducked into the tent. He was followed by Mordred and Arthur knew that Nimueh didn’t trust the physician.

“You’re going back?” Arthur asked, despite knowing the answer. As soon as they had realised Arthur had recovered from the bite, they had all known that Gaius must return. He had been gone for a short enough time that he could blame it on gathering herbs. Freya had even collected a bundle for him to take back if anyone should ask. Gaius nodded, wincing as he lowered himself to his knees and put a gnarled hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Be vigilant, Sire,” he said. “And keep your wits about you.”

“I shall.” Arthur attempted to smile at the man who had been more than a father than the king had ever been. “If you can, tell Leon I’m alive.”

He knew it was dangerous and could risk the entire plan. But he knew what his knight would be putting himself through and Arthur couldn’t bear the thought. Gaius nodded, but his eyes were troubled.

“You should go,” Arthur spoke quietly, but with a commanding tone, “before you lose the daylight.”

“Sire…”

“Go, Gaius. You have to keep him alive.”

Gaius didn’t have a response for that and rose. He paused at the entrance and looked back. Arthur knew Gaius was wondering if he would ever see him again before he disappeared. The tent flap fell back into place but Arthur realised with a start that Mordred hadn’t left.

“What?” Arthur said bluntly, staring up at him. Mordred was pale with dark rings under his eyes. Arthur didn’t think he had slept since Merlin had vanished.

“This is your fault,” Mordred said, venom dripping from every word. Arthur preferred this hatred though, as it meant he knew he didn’t have to fear Mordred’s lust anymore.

“We both know it’s not,” Arthur replied softly. “You knew where you were sending me. You knew he would come after me if he found out.”

“He was mine.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything. He wondered if Mordred even knew what love was. Whatever he felt towards Merlin, it was possessive and cruel. Arthur hoped that his kidnapping would have one positive outcome if nothing else; Merlin would be free of Mordred.

But now… Now, Arthur would do anything for Merlin to be back with Mordred if it meant that he was safe.

“You must be good at sucking cock.” Mordred wasn’t done yet and Arthur shifted. He rested his head back on the pole and tried to drown out the man’s voice. It wasn’t easy though. Arthur wasn’t used to being helpless and sitting here being insulted while his hands were tied was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

“I imagine you got that from your mother,” Mordred continued. Arthur’s hands tightened into fists. “Your father is a bastard but I imagine he is too proud to get on his knees for any man.”

Arthur tensed, his body rigid. He didn’t look at Mordred, instead focusing on his breathing and keeping it even.

“I wonder if he held her down when he-,”

Arthur lunged forward. The ropes slid away from his wrists and his momentum carried him straight into Mordred. Even as they fell, Arthur saw the gold fade from the man’s eyes and knew that Mordred had released him. They grappled and fought, rolling around in the dirt. Mordred might have magic on his side, but Arthur had brute strength and years of training. They were evenly matched and Arthur barely noticed he was receiving as many blows as he was delivering.

“Enough!”

A blast of magic caught him in the chest, throwing him back against the pole. Anger pounding in Arthur’s ears and he fought to get to Mordred. Shackles clicked around his wrists and it was only when the chain pulled taut did Arthur take a deep breath. He looked up to find Mordred similarly bound the other side of the tent and Nimueh standing there with her eyes blazing.

“You know we are trying to help you and yet you insist on acting like a savage brute rather than a prince. There is more of your father in you than I hoped, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur flinched as if Nimueh had struck him. The anger still raced through his veins and he forced himself to stand up, albeit awkwardly.

“He insulted my mother,” he said. Instantly, Nimueh’s anger changed direction. She glared at Mordred, and when he opened his mouth, she silenced him with a wave of her hand. Arthur felt no satisfaction at the thick wad of cloth in Mordred’s mouth though. He wanted to wrap his hands around the man’s throat, and not just because of the insult to his mother. For Merlin.

Nimueh turned back to him and sighed heavily.

“I understand this is hard for you,” she said in a softer tone. “I won’t leave you waiting long, I promise. Merlin won’t hold out against your father. But… try and stay alive, for all our sakes.”

She turned and left, leaving Arthur tugging on his chains. Eventually, he lent back against the post and slid back down it until he was sitting. If Nimueh wanted it to look convincing, she had just got her wish. Arthur could feel that he was covered in bruises. He hoped she was wrong about Merlin though. She had to be.

Merlin had to survive, no matter what.

MMM

A cool cloth dabbed against his forehead, jerking him back to consciousness. Merlin jolted, groaning as he twisted in his chains before a hand caught his elbow and held him steady.

“Easy,” a voice said. Merlin opened his eyes. The torch resting on the stone floor of his cell hurt his eyes, but he refused to screw them shut again. He took a few deep breaths through his nose and stood straighter. He was still chained up, but his feet could touch the floor now, although only just. As soon as he stood though, waves of agony shot through his body and Merlin thought he was going to pass out again.

“Deep breath,” the voice instructed. Merlin obeyed without thinking. There was something reassuring about the tone and he followed the advice. The agony didn’t pass but his head cleared a little. The whipping had just been the beginning; Uther had let the guards beat him back into oblivion once he realised that Merlin was awake. The warlock knew his torment had not ended yet. The king would make him suffer, would take his revenge for every person with magic on the one warlock he had captured. Merlin would have done anything to escape the restraints of his body at that moment, but the enchanted cuffs around his wrists prevented any sort of escape.

A goblet was placed against his lips and Merlin drank greedily. He didn’t bother asking if it was poisoned. He didn’t think it mattered; he was never going to get out of this place. The only thing that made him swallow, trying to calm his ragged throat, was that he refused to let Uther break him before he died. He wouldn’t beg and he wouldn’t betray his friends. He would die a man, not a victim.

As the thought lodged in his head once more, Merlin looked around him properly, taking strength from his determination. Leon looked on approvingly even as he lowered the goblet. Then he dipped his cloth back in a bowl of water and continued to clean the blood from Merlin’s face.

“Why are you doing this?” Merlin whispered. He knew he had to be cautious: Leon’s actions could land him in the next cell form what Merlin understood of Uther’s reason – or lack of it. The knight looked him in the eye though, not looking the slightest bit afraid.

“If he is alive, you must remain that way as well.”

“Uther won’t let me go,” Merlin muttered. “You know this.”

“I do.” The fact that Leon didn’t attempt to deny it or offer him false comfort helped Merlin focus on their conversation, knowing the knight was being honest with him. “But from what you’ve said, Arthur loves you. I cannot let the man he cares for die through my own negligence.”

Merlin stared at him. Leon held his gaze and it was then that Merlin understood. Leon had been riding close to Arthur before Merlin had separated them, protection written in his posture and position. There was a brotherly bond between the two men and Merlin knew that, in his own way, Leon loved Arthur just as much as Merlin did. If that meant betraying his king to protect his prince’s heart, then Leon would do it. Merlin felt humbled; he had just thought Arthur a prat, not someone who could inspire so much loyalty.

“I don’t want you to get into trouble for me,” Merlin eventually muttered. “Arthur wouldn’t forgive me either.”

“Let’s focus on one problem at a time. For now, keeping you alive. Some of these cuts are already beginning to show signs of infection, but Gaius has not yet returned.”

Merlin knew what wasn’t being said. Until Gaius arrived, they had no idea if Arthur was alive or not.

“I swear I tried,” Merlin muttered. Leon smiled.

“I know. That is why you are chained in a dungeon.”

Merlin managed a weak smile at that, forcing himself to stand up straighter. They didn’t speak as Leon continued to try and clean him up the best he could.

“I’ll try and bring you some food, but the guards change in an hour. I can’t guarantee that I will be able to get in.”

Merlin nodded, his heart thudding hard. The idea of being left here in the dark, bound and helpless, terrified him more than Uther’s beatings or cruelty. But he couldn’t let Leon know that. He had meant what he said – he owed it to Arthur to protect his friend the best he could.

Leon picked up the torch and moved to the cell door. He turned to look back at Merlin before he left.

“Stay strong and don’t give up.” He murmured, opening the door and then locking it behind him. He disappeared down the corridor, taking the light with him. Merlin let his head hang, hoping the pain would drag him back to unconsciousness. But the drink and the cleaning of the wounds had made him alert and his mind would not surrender to the blackness again.

It was painful, hanging like this. Closing his eyes, he could picture the last time he had felt this helpless. He could still feel the men’s hands holding him back as he kicked and screamed in their grasp, terror preventing him from using magic. He could hear his mother pleading for them to let him go, see the sword swinging at her. After that was hazy. All Merlin knew was that his magic had exploded from him and there had been nothing left of the men. It had almost cost him his life and Nimueh had found him burning and shivering with a fever in the forest a few days later.

Merlin wrenched his eyes open, breathing hard and struggling to hold back the cries. He would not give Uther the satisfaction, even if his torment came from many years before. He took a few deep breaths, concentrating on the methods that Nimueh had taught him when she had realised just how powerful he was. The world wouldn’t survive him losing control every time he experienced extreme emotions.

He managed to pass some time without giving into his fear. Merlin had no idea how many hours had passed or even what time of day it was. He was hungry but the pain distracted him from it. He didn’t want to give Uther the pleasure of witnessing his discomfort.

When a flickering torch started moving towards his cell though, Merlin felt his breathing pick up. He wasn’t ready for this! He couldn’t do it, he would break, Uther would win and everything he had worked for… Merlin held his breath, then released it in a slow exhale. Panicking would do Uther’s work for him.

He set his expression into one of indifference and thought of his family and friends. He thought of Arthur. He would remain strong.

“Oh my boy,” a voice breathed. Merlin started, glancing at the door. It was Gaius!

Merlin could only stare, his heart thudding hard. He was nervous, more nervous than any threat of violence could make him. Gaius unlocked the door, entering with his medicine bag. He set it down and began pressing at some of the bruises.

“The king ordered me to attend to you. _He_ wants to kill you, not your injuries.”

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered. Gaius looked up at him, catching his eye. He slowly smiled and nodded and Merlin felt light, as if he could just float out of the chains and back to the forest.

“The prince lives,” Gaius murmured. “He always has been a fighter, although I admit it was close this time.”

Merlin grinned. He couldn’t help it. It was worth it. Coming here had saved Arthur’s life, and that was enough for Merlin not to care that the king was going to burn him alive. Merlin laughed in relief and Gaius scolded him, although his voice was light and friendly.

“There’s more,” the physician whispered, casting a suspicious glance towards the door. “Your mistress and your lover both feel very strongly about getting you out of here. They’re hatching a plan as we speak.”

Merlin felt a warm glow rise to his cheeks at Gaius’ casual remark about Arthur being his lover. He shifted, wincing as he did so.

“Who would have guessed it, Nimueh working with Arthur? I should have been caught years ago if that is what it took.”

“She cares for you a great deal. So does he. What is it, why do you smile like that?”

“I told him,” Merlin murmured, “I told him love was stronger than hatred.”

Gaius didn’t respond but instead began treating the wounds. The pastes stung and the tonics tasted awful. Merlin knew what he was doing went beyond keeping him alive for Uther to kill at a later date. He was helping Merlin remain strong, knowing a rescue was on the way.

Merlin clung onto that thought with every fibre of his being, even when the king returned later that day.


	19. Chapter 19

Arthur had his eyes shut when Nimueh returned. He opened them, but remained silent as she released Mordred and gestured for the man to get out. Arthur watched him go and then sighed.

“We’re going to need him,” he said quietly. Nimueh looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Arthur shifted into a more comfortable position, although it made little difference. He was stiff and sore from both the beating and his fight from Mordred, plus his genuine weakness from the poisoning. He shrugged.

“He’s the only one who still hates me. He’s the only one I have anything left to fear from.”

Nimueh opened her mouth, but closed it again before words escaped her. Arthur knew it was because he was right. Mordred’s magic meant he had the power to kill Arthur from a distance, to put him through agony without touching him. Arthur was afraid of that, even if he hated admitting it. If their plan wasn’t working, Mordred would be the only one prepared to do what needed to be done to get Merlin back.

“We leave in the morning,” Nimueh said. “The longer we tarry, the more chance there is that we are too late.”

Arthur nodded and his heart skipped a beat at the thought. He had to believe that Merlin was strong. He didn’t doubt the man but there was a difference between facing death and facing torture. It was easy to die with your head held high.

Nimueh’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Whatever happens over the next few days, know that you have a home here should you ever need it. You need protecting from your father, I owe that much to your mother.”

She left before Arthur had the chance to respond. He didn’t want to throw the offer back in her face, but he had learnt long ago how to handle his father. Uther’s betrayal made it easier though. Arthur knew he would be able to bow without feeling the hurt of having his father ignore his suggestions and ridicule his counsel. Uther would only get back his prince from this exchange. His son died the day Uther refused to make the deal.

A guard brought in some food and helped Arthur eat. This was their last chance of making the bruises look long-term – releasing the cuffs too early wouldn’t help. But the man was slow and steady and Arthur knew what he had told Nimueh was true: Mordred was the only one who hated him.

As the man left, he looked back.

“We know you are not your father. When your reign comes, it will be a golden one with Emrys at your side.”

He disappeared before Arthur could ask what he meant. He would have riled at the treasonous words when he had first been brought here, but he didn’t feel like that any longer. For the first time in his life, Arthur was truly looking forward to being king rather than being terrified by the responsibility. Only with his reign would everyone be able to live in peace.

The thoughts occupied most of the day for Arthur. There was nothing else for him to do. He could hear preparations being made outside his prison. By the sounds of it, there was going to be a large retinue coming to Camelot – everyone wanted a chance to rescue Merlin. But those who remained were moving the camp. There was no telling what would happen when they arrived and it wasn’t fair to endanger the women, children or those who wanted nothing to do with the exchange.

He went hungry that night, but knew it was part of the plan. He also thought he might have been forgotten about as battle plans were drawn. If this exchange worked, this would be the first time the Druids would have had any sort of victory over Uther. This was about more than just getting Merlin back.

Arthur dozed for a short time, restless dreams plaguing him and causing him to twitch in his chains. A hand on his shoulder woke him before dawn and as he looked up at Nimueh, he knew the witch had not slept all night. She unlocked his chains and helped him to his feet, holding out a goblet of water. Arthur drank deeply. Despite their pretence, he knew he needed his wits about him if this was to work. He held out his hands to be chained again but Nimueh shook her head.

“You are not our prisoner, Arthur. You will play your part when we reach the city. For now, you walk as one of us.”

Arthur knew there was no greater sign of acceptance from her. Nearly a dozen Druids were accompanying them and Arthur felt a sense of belonging as he fell in amongst them. It was similar to what he felt with his knights and knew Nimueh’s words had been true; he had a place here now and not just because of Merlin. Mordred met his eyes briefly, giving a sharp nod before turning away to talk to Gilli. Arthur knew in that glance Nimueh had spoken to him about staying close to Arthur in case things went wrong.

Arthur shivered at the thought and moved closer to Freya. She tried to smile, but her face was creased with concern and she looked close to tears. Arthur put a hand on her shoulder.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructed quietly. “Hold it, then release it slowly. Stop thinking about what might happen and focus on one problem at a time. We have to get there first.”

She nodded and her smile was genuine this time. Arthur waited until he knew she had pulled it together before moving closer to Nimueh. As the sun brushed the trees, she gave the signal and the strange group began moving through the forest. Arthur didn’t let on that the movement was making his head swim and his legs shake. Then he caught Nimueh’s sly glance and knew she was aware of his weakness. He would be a wreck by the time they reached Camelot without a single druid touching him.

They reached the edge of the forest by mid-morning. Arthur started at seeing how close the camp was to Camelot. But he didn’t have the time to comment on it before Nimueh rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ready?”

“Whatever happens,” Arthur said, swallowing against his dry throat, “get Merlin out.”

Nimueh nodded. Arthur didn’t know whether to be reassured or not that he was surrounded by a group of people who would sacrifice him without a second thought if it meant getting Merlin back.

A gust of magic forced him to his knees. Instinctively, Arthur resisted before he made himself to relax. Nimueh started chanting and Arthur gasped as he doubled over, his arms drawn behind him and magic securing them tightly. A hand fisted in his hair, jerking his head back roughly. A gag was forced into his mouth, cutting the corner of his lip before he was hauled to his feet. Nimueh stood in front of him and twisted her hand. Arthur recoiled in horror as a rope looped around his neck, the free end resting in her hand.

He knew he looked the part.

“Remember, do not use magic unless provoked. For us to get our brother back, the people must be behind their prince. Love must be stronger than hate.”

She caught Arthur’s eye as she delivered the final part of the speech and Arthur knew he was not the only one Merlin had tried to convince. He nodded and she returned the gesture, before moving away, dragging the bound prince of Camelot behind her like a stray dog.

Whispers spread before they reached the citadel. Arthur guided Nimueh to the lower town – avoiding as many guards as possible – through subtle jerks of his head jolting the rope. A crowd had gathered when they stopped in the market square. A woman screamed in the crowd, panic spreading that an invasion was taking place.

Nimueh stopped, clicking her fingers. An almighty force shoved Arthur to his knees once more and she threw the rope to Mordred, who pulled it so taut Arthur choked and struggled to balance. The druids formed a circle around them and Nimueh looked around at the crowd.

“I have your prince,” she declared. “I have the shell of a man who once promised to lead you.”

Someone – Arthur didn’t see who – kicked him sharply in the ribs and he doubled over, coughing through the gag. The crowd shifted.

“But I’m prepared to give him back for something of mine. Something of no consequence to you good people. So one of you run to fetch your king before I kill your future in front of you.”

The clank of armour revealed the knights. Arthur couldn’t look up, ashamed to face the men he led fearlessly into battle while he was on his knees. His heart was beating hard though. If the knights were here, it meant his father was aware of their presence.

Would he come or would he abandon his son once again?

MMM

Merlin screamed.

The smell of burning flesh made him gag and he writhed in the chains, trying to get away from the brand resting against his shoulder. Uther’s cruel chuckle cut through the fog descending on his mind and Merlin wretched against the pain. The iron was removed from his skin and Merlin gulped down frantic gasps of air. He had to remain conscious; he refused to give Uther the satisfaction of blacking out. But still…

“I told you I would break you,” Uther spat. Merlin looked up as he held out his hand, the guard passing another glowing poker into his hand. The rest of the cell disappeared, all Merlin could see was that poker. He kept his eyes open, knowing he would still see it even if he squeezed them shut and tried to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder.

Uther approached, the poker directed straight at his stomach. Merlin whimpered, not even trying to hide it as he attempted to move back out of reach. He could feel the heat and knew it would only be seconds before it touched him…

“Sire!”

The heat vanished as Uther turned. Merlin controlled his breathing, drawing himself back from hyperventilating. A knight was standing by the door, his face pale.

“They’re here.”

“Who?”

“The Druids.” The knight was a mixture between concerned and angry. “My Lord, they have the prince with them. He is badly hurt. They want the boy. Please, Sire, they are waiting…”

Uther glared at Merlin, who didn’t have to fake his expression. He had no idea what was going on either.

“Told you he was alive,” Merlin muttered, letting his head rest against his chest. He spoke more for the knight than the king; he was the one telling the truth, not Uther. But then he cried out as his feet were taking his weight again and the chain was released from the ceiling.

“Bring him,” Uther ordered. He strode out without a backwards glance. The knight entered the cell. He released the shackles and Merlin plunged for his magic. The effort left him light-headed and dizzy and he didn’t try it again. If Nimueh was here, with Arthur, then Gaius had been telling the truth. They had been working on a plan. But Merlin knew his mistress would do everything she could; there was no point in him knocking himself out just to get away from one guard. If nothing else, he needed a guide to know where they were.

The knight clamped manacles around his wrists, but left his hands bound in front of him. He took Merlin’s arm – thankfully not the burnt one – and half-escorted, half-dragged him from the cells. Another knight had to step forward to help when Merlin’s legs refused to support his weight and his bare feet made him flinch on every other step. He vaguely wondered if Nimueh would get bored waiting for him – he had never been on time for all the years he had been with her. But most of Merlin’s focus was remaining conscious. He didn’t know what they had done to Arthur to make the knight so concerned, but Merlin reassured himself that Nimueh wasn’t Uther; she wouldn’t have hurt him properly.

The sunlight made him cry out. The knights stopped and Merlin was aware of a muttered conversation going on over his head. Then they paused in a doorway and gave him a moment to adjust. Merlin knew he would never forget that small kindness as they continued on the way. His head was hanging and his breathing was laboured by the time they reached the market. The knights pushed him to his knees and Merlin fell willingly, no longer having the strength to remain standing.

_“Merlin?”_

Merlin jumped, looking up. What he saw made his heart stutter. Nimueh was practically leaking magic, all the stools of the nearby market trembling in her rage. Her eyes were locked on him though and Merlin realised it had been her voice echoing in his head. Mordred stood behind her, a rope held loosely in one hand and horror on his face.

But then Merlin’s gaze moved on. On his knees and bound, just like Merlin, was Arthur.

He was alive!

Merlin felt tears of relief flood his eyes for a second and Arthur shifted. No one else noticed the anger flaring in the eyes of the supposedly broken prince. Although Merlin knew Arthur’s anger wouldn’t achieve anything, he was grateful to see it. It meant this was an act, a pretence of some sort. Arthur wasn’t as hurt as he appeared.

Merlin only wished the same were true of him.

 _“I’m…alive,_ ” he thought back to his mistress. He couldn’t say that he was okay, not without knowing what their plan was. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t fight. They wouldn’t be able to rely on him.

_“And you shall remain that way.”_

Merlin watched numbly as Nimueh lifted her gaze from him. He had seen her observe Uther, listened to her many rants about the man. But nothing prepared him for the anger he could _feel_ radiating from her now that she was face to face with the king.

“My people!” Uther cried. “Look what these sorcerers have done to your prince! They will be brought to justice-,”

“Silence!” A flame leapt from Nimueh’s hand. Uther stepped back as all of his knights stepped forward. Merlin felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Leon standing over him. The knight didn’t glance at him, his gaze was locked on his prince, but Merlin knew Leon would protect him for Arthur’s sake. Arthur himself was kneeling straighter, clearly not able to submit even in pretence.

“Your king was given the chance, not two moons ago. His son and heir – your prince and future king – would be returned unharmed. All I asked in return that we were allowed to live in peace.”

The people stirred and Merlin knew this was not the message they had heard from their king.

“You were told Prince Arthur was dead because it suited your king. Your knights would have their hearts full of hate, prepared to hunt down innocent children and women in revenge.”

Merlin was aware of a few of the knights shifting uneasily. Nimueh’s words hit upon the truth, but they didn’t like their honour questioned by the woman who was their enemy.

“But I show you now, he lives!” She snapped her fingers and the rope flew from Mordred’s hands to her own. Merlin winced as she tugged hard and – caught unaware – Arthur was sent sprawling at her feet. The knights all shifted again.

“Your prince lives!” Nimueh repeated. “And once again, I offer him to your king. But in return, I want his prisoner. We will leave these lands and live in peace elsewhere, but not without the boy. One heir for another, Uther Pendragon. The future of your kingdom for a boy you will never see again.”

Silence met her speech. Merlin looked at the people. They were all staring at Uther. Hope was the only expression on their faces. There was no fear, no hatred for the druids. They wanted to know their children would be safe by Camelot having a clear heir. They wanted to know they had a future. They cared nothing for Merlin; no one even knew he had been in the dungeons. They wanted Arthur back.

By the tension across Uther’s shoulders, he knew it. Merlin suppressed a smile, realising what the plan was. If Uther refused, Merlin might be killed. But the kingdom would turn against its monarch and chaos would reign. If Uther wanted to hold onto his power, even if he didn’t care for Arthur, he would have no choice but to give in. But he wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t agreeing, and Merlin wondered if he believed the threat wasn’t real.

“They won’t agree, heartless cowards,” Mordred suddenly spat. “We should just kill him now.”

To Merlin’s – and everyone else’s – horror, his hand shot out towards Arthur. The prince was lifted into the air and his kicking legs indicated the magic was wrapped firmly around his neck. This was no trick; Arthur’s face was changing colour.

“No!” Merlin’s cry was lost as the people all surged forward, shouting at Mordred to stop it and Uther to do something. The king held up his hand and Arthur’s feet touched the floor again. He instantly fell to his knees, doubling over as he struggled to breathe through the gag.

“Be at the lake dawn tomorrow, Uther,” Nimueh commanded. “With my ward. If there is another scratch on him, I will kill your son. If you don’t show, I will kill him. If you double-cross me, Arthur dies. Let you all bear witness to this; if your kingdom crumbles it is your king’s doing for refusing to put aside his pride for his son.”


	20. Chapter 20

Merlin wasn’t aware of what occurred after Nimueh’s threat and promise. He assumed Uther must have agreed as the next thing he knew, he was back in his cell. At least, he thought he was. Only this time, they left the loose manacles on him and there was a bed of straw in one corner. A torch burnt outside the door, giving Merlin enough light to see by as he crashed down on it.

He had never known pain like it. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t hurt. Merlin knew he should try and rest, to get some sleep while he could. Uther might not touch him again because of his word to Nimueh, but that didn’t mean the journey to the lake wouldn’t kill him. Merlin had lost track of how long he had been here, but the effort of being taken outside left him on the brink of consciousness. His shoulder burnt and throbbed and he had to lie half on his front, half on his side, to miss both the whip marks and the burns.

Sleep evaded him though. His body was screaming for rest, but every time Merlin closed his eyes, he couldn’t quite let go. In the end, he struggled to reach his magic instead, looking for that welcoming warmth that reminded him that he wasn’t helpless. Despite losing track of time, he knew for sure that it had been too long since he had connected to his power. It felt like a limb had been chopped off.

But the magic proved as elusive as sleep. It was there, Merlin could feel it. But it shied away from him, avoiding his grasp and retreating further. Merlin grunted in frustration, not understanding what was happening.

“I’d save your strength if I were you.”

Merlin hadn’t heard anyone approach and certainly hadn’t noticed the door open. Gaius stood there, a plate in one hand and his medicine bag in the other. Leon was framed in the doorway behind him and Merlin forced himself to sit up. The effort made his head swim and by the time he recovered his senses, Gaius was sitting next to him.

“Drink this,” the old man commanded, pushing a cup into Merlin’s hand. He took a sip and pulled a taste.

“That’s not water.”

“No,” Gaius agreed, “it’s a weak sleeping draught and a strong pain tonic. It will let you rest.”

Merlin stared into the cup, then downed it. He knew Gaius was right and that if he could escape the pain for a few hours, he would feel much stronger in the morning. He instantly felt it working and sagged in relief as the pain from his wounds receded. Handing the cup back, Merlin stared numbly as Gaius began smoothing an ointment over the burn before turning his attention to his back.

“Why can’t I use my magic?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. He didn’t care if Leon heard him or not, but he wanted answers. Deep down, terror was taking hold that he would never be able to use his power again. If he didn’t have magic, Merlin didn’t know who he was. Tears pooled in his eyes at the thought; Uther would have defeated him more effectively than any torture if that was the case. But Gaius’ hand on his uninjured shoulder made him lift his head again.

“It’s protecting you,” the physician said. “It’s been restrained too long and it wants to lash out. But it knows you are not physically strong enough, so it is preventing you from reaching it.”

Merlin blinked at him, barely comprehending what the man was saying. He made it sound like his magic was an entity of its own rather than just part of him. Merlin swallowed thickly, then jerked in pain as Gaius pressed down on one of the wounds on his back.

“Hold still,” Gaius said, “this needs to be clean.”

In the end, Merlin passed out. The easing of the pain along with his exhaustion and fear meant the next time Gaius made him whimper, his body gave in and surrendered to the darkness. It was dark when he awoke, but the thin blanket that had been pulled over him made him smile. For a moment, Merlin just lay there in the darkness, feeling his heart beat and clinging to the thought that he was still alive. Each breath he took denied Uther, and each breath brought him closer to being reunited with his family again.

He clung to that thought, letting it strengthen his resolve. But after a few moments, he realised he could hear voices and knew that was what had awoken him. Moving stiffly, Merlin rolled to his feet. While he ached, Gaius’ treatment, tonic and sleep had helped and he could move without feeling like he was going to pass out again.

Torches were flickering in the corridor beyond and as Merlin straightened, they approached his door. He knew it was time. They had come for him and if they wanted to be at the lake by dawn, they would have to leave now. Merlin lifted his head and stood tall as the door opened. The guard threaded a length of rope through the chains that still bound his hands and then stepped back with his head bowed.

Merlin didn’t flinch when Uther entered. Gratitude to Gaius flooded through him as he knew without the physician’s care, he would have shied back from the king, afraid of pain. But now, he had just enough strength left to defy the king one more time.

Uther took hold of the end of the rope and pulled it tight. Merlin stumbled forward, trying to keep his footing.

“I’ll give you back, for now,” the king breathed. His voice was so soft that Merlin knew the guards couldn’t hear. “But do not think that this is over.”

Before Merlin could respond, the guard had gagged him and a rough sack was pulled over his head. He stumbled along as the rope was jerked, his heart pounding hard. This wasn’t an exchange; it was a trap! Uther had agreed, not to get his son back, but for a chance to engage the Druids away from the castle where his people weren’t witness to the atrocities he could order.

Merlin would have struggled, but he didn’t see the point. He couldn’t reach his magic yet and escaping now wouldn’t save his people. If Uther turned up without him, Merlin couldn’t guarantee that Nimueh’s anger wouldn’t be so bold that she took it out on Arthur without thinking of the consequences. Merlin had never considered the day would come when his actions determined the fate of an entire kingdom.

He tripped, fell and stumbled his way out of the castle and wondered how they were planning to get him to the lake. But then he was dragged over a horse and he knew. Head hanging, Merlin tried to think of a way that he could warn his people. As the horse started moving, the pain became too much to handle and Merlin could do nothing other than black out.

Pain took him from consciousness and pain returned him to it. Merlin’s entire body jolted as he was shoved from the horse and the explosion that rippled up his back brought him back with a muffled cry. The sack over his head was removed and he blinked in the early morning light.

“Get him up,” Uther snarled and hands grabbed Merlin, hauling him upright. The king remained mounted, nudging his horse into a walk. Merlin was pulled along behind. The entire army was behind the king but as they moved from the tree line, Merlin realised that only a handful of knights – Uther’s personal guard – could be seen. The druids would have no idea.

Struggling against his bonds, Merlin tried to wrench his head free of the gag, determined he would be able to cry a warning before it was too late. His head was still too foggy to quest out with his mind and his magic remained tantalising out of reach.

Uther moved out into the open just as the sun graced the horizon. Merlin blinked against the light and felt his heart swell. The entire camp had come, every man, women and child were lined up against the lake. They had come for him, and Merlin knew Uther would kill them all.

But then he heard the king swear and mutter something about traitors and Merlin looked again. Arthur was standing next to Nimueh.

He wasn’t bound. He was standing tall and proud and Merlin could see he had been dressed in clean clothing. This wasn’t what Uther was expecting and he clearly realised he couldn’t use Arthur’s treatment as a reason to spur his men into action. Merlin wondered if Arthur knew how his father would think and had decided this himself. Uther let go of the rope as he dismounted, drawing his sword. Moving behind Merlin, he shoved him between the shoulder-blades and levelled the weapon at him.

“Go on then,” he spat. “Go back to your kind, sorcerer.”

MMM

Arthur twitched nervously when he saw his father draw his sword.

“Easy,” Nimueh murmured, fleetingly touching his wrist. It was brief enough that no one, especially not his father, would have noticed but it was enough for Arthur to take a deep breath and lift his head proudly. He was the Prince of Camelot and he was not going to cower before anyone. The trouble was, Arthur was no longer sure if his enemy was the witch standing next to him who had taken him hostage, or his own father standing across the field with a drawn sword.

As Merlin stumbled forward, Arthur glanced at Nimueh. She nodded and smiled weakly.

“Remember, you always have a home with us.”

“How will I find you if you are moving on?”

She nodded across the field. Although Arthur didn’t turn, he knew she was gesturing towards Merlin. “Follow your heart, young prince, and you will find us.”

Arthur knew nothing more needed to be said. He started moving forward, keeping his pace slow so as to meet Merlin in the middle. He knew Merlin had to reach the safety of his people before Arthur did the same. Although he could see only a handful of guards, he knew how quickly they could react and knew the way his father’s mind worked. More men would be nearby, Arthur was sure of that.

He kept his eyes on his lover as they crossed the field between them. Arthur paused at the midway point, his hand lifting to release Merlin’s gag, to caress his cheek one last time. But Merlin ducked back and Arthur remembered where they were. They had made sure his father didn’t blame him, that he still trusted Arthur’s counsel when this was over. If he openly displayed his affection to a sorcerer right now, they were all as good as dead.

There was pain in Merlin’s eyes though, so much pain. Arthur knew it wasn’t only physical. Once this exchange had taken place, Arthur was fully aware that their chances of seeing each other were slim. As Merlin took a hesitant step towards Nimueh, his eyes not leaving Arthur, the prince realised he couldn’t let Merlin go like this.

“I will come for you,” he vowed in a whisper. “When I am king, I will come for you and have you by my side forever, I swear.”

Unless he was a mistaken, there was a shadow of a smile on Merlin’s face and he almost fell as he tried to take another step without looking where he was going. Arthur smiled fondly and then watched as Merlin walked away. He didn’t care that his father saw; he would be able to defend his actions with excuses of watching his back if anything was asked.

It hurt though. Every step Merlin took felt like a physical pain in Arthur’s chest. He had never believed he would get the chance at love, not considering his preference for men and the knowledge his marriage would only be for the good of the kingdom rather than the good of his heart. Part of Arthur had always believed love to be a weakness, just as a way of soothing himself. But now, watching Merlin walk away, he vowed that he was going to be the best prince there was. Only that way would the nobles and the people rally behind him and see the sense of lifting the ban on magic. If he was strong, he could have Merlin.

Arthur turned to face his father and was surprised by the hatred he felt towards the man. It was because of Uther’s hatred that Arthur knew there was no chance of their love while the man breathed. But now was not the time for rash behaviour. If he had learnt anything during his time as a captive – even a pretend one – it was how to bide his time and wait. He would hide his feelings, both positive and negative, and make sure his father couldn’t find fault in him for once.

His determination steeled his heart and mind and Arthur slowly walked towards his father. The king sheathed his sword as Arthur drew closer. Arthur prayed it meant his father would be happy to return to Camelot with his son rather than wanting revenge. He even crossed his fingers, tired of so much hate and anger.

To his surprise, Uther reached out and pulled him into an embrace as soon as Arthur was in reach. Arthur remained stiff, not certain of what he was supposed to do. The only physicality between them had been Uther’s blows when Arthur was younger. He had certainly never hugged his son before. But maybe Arthur was wrong, maybe seeing his heir on his knees had changed something in his father… Arthur started to relax.

“It’s a trap!” Merlin’s voice was hoarse with pain but rang clearly over the field. “Arthur, it’s a trap!”

Relaxing proved to be his undoing. By the time Merlin’s words had registered in his mind, the king reacted. He spun Arthur, holding him in an iron grip with the prince’s back to his father’s chest. Arthur tried struggling, but the man had effectively pinned his arms by his sides. Arthur knew that the knights, wherever they were hiding (he knew they were here somewhere) couldn’t see what his father was doing. Although Arthur hadn’t known what to expect, he certainly wasn’t expected a rag to be held firmly over his mouth and nose. It was drenched in something and Arthur coughed as the fumes hit his throat. He tried to hold his breath, tried to break away from his father’s hold, but not all his weakness had been faked and Uther was fuelled with hate.

Arthur sagged, losing his grip on consciousness. His father caught him and Arthur knew instantly that the rag had been hidden again.

“It’s a trick,” the king bellowed, “they have attempted to kill your prince!”

Arthur knew his father’s voice would have carried across the entire field. But it didn’t matter, there was nothing he could do. Men burst from the trees surrounding them, some mounted and some on foot. All were armed and it only took one glance of the semi-conscious prince before they all let out war cries and charged across the field.

Arthur tried to rise. His head was swimming and his stomach rolling. He struggled to think coherently and when he tried to speak, nothing more than a croak came out.

“Hush now, Arthur,” the king said, his voice firm, “you’ve done enough.”

To anyone else, it might have sounded like a concerned father. But Arthur held the true threat in Uther’s voice and knew that despite their best efforts, the king was suspicious of his son. Everyone knew what a strong warrior Arthur was: he should have escaped the Druids or died trying weeks ago, not allow himself be used like this.

He tried to rise, but his father held him down with ease. Arthur knew he was about to pass out, he could feel the darkness teasing him. His head rolled helplessly and through fading vision, he saw a burst of magic and heard the screams as the knights reached the Druids.

Uther stood, dragging Arthur with him as he moved towards his horse. A guard was standing there, holding its bridle as the king mounted and between the two of them, they got Arthur’s dead weight up and over the horse. He was leaning back on his father, his head resting on the man’s shoulder with no choice in the matter.

“I must get him to Gaius,” the king told the guard. Arthur gave one last attempt to move but the horse was already turning away from the battle.

“Arthur!”

He passed out as Merlin’s scream rang in his ears.

When he awoke, he was in his own chambers. He had been bathed and was dressed in his own clothes. There was a platter of food on the table and one jug of wine, another of water. Arthur took this in as he slowly looked around, trying to piece together what had happened.

Then he sprung from the bed and stumbled towards the window, barely staying upright. It was evening. The battle would have been over hours ago. Was Merlin alive? Arthur searched himself, adamant he would feel it if the warlock was dead. Nimueh had implied as much. But he felt nothing. Nothing good, nothing bad. He had no idea.

Determined to find answers, Arthur ignored the food and moved towards the door. He took hold of the handle and pulled. The door didn’t move. Arthur tugged and fought against the wood but it was no good. He was locked in.

Turning his back to the door, he sunk down it, dangling his arms over bent up legs and leaning his head back on the door.

It was over. He had lost. He knew his father would never allow him to discover if the Druids had survived the ambush or not. He would never know if his lover lived or not.

If anyone heard the scream of anguish coming from the prince’s chambers, they assumed it was due to the horrors he had endured at the hands of their enemies.


	21. Chapter 21

Arthur should have been ashamed of how he acted over the following days, if only he could bring himself to care. He had never had the patience for men who wallowed in self-pity. But even when his door was unlocked later that evening, he didn’t leave.

He didn’t leave for three days, ignoring the food that was brought to him and focusing on emptying the wine pitchers.

He had been away from Camelot before and for longer lengths of time than this time. But returning had always felt like coming home. Not this time. Everything he thought he knew had been destroyed. The whole kingdom had been witness to the fact that his father didn’t care for him and Arthur felt as if his eyes had been opened. He had never been blind to the king’s faults, but had chosen to ignore them because it was not his place to question the man.

Now, however, Arthur knew things could not return to the way they had been before. He couldn’t turn a blind eye having seen how women and children lived in terror because of his father’s hatred. He couldn’t be part of that anymore. Coupled with the knowledge that he had lost Merlin one way or another meant Arthur’s mind was in turmoil and the effort of moving from his chambers was too great for him. He just didn’t see the point anymore, didn’t know what difference he could make when his father cared no more for him than he did any of the soldiers under his command.

But even if Arthur wanted to brood, he wasn’t given the chance. On the fifth day since he had returned to the castle, the door burst open and his father appeared. Arthur was thankful that he had made it out of bed, even if he was slumped in a chair by a burnt-out fire.

“Get him up,” the king commanded. Two guards moved in, taking Arthur by the arms and hoisting him to his feet. Uther looked around the room, his lip curling.

“You’re a disgrace,” he spat. Arthur looked at him.

“I’m recovering,” he said drily. Now it had been made clear the man didn’t care what happened to him, Arthur didn’t see why he should fight for the king’s approval. It was because of Uther that he would never see the man he loved again. Something stirred in the pit of Arthur’s stomach at that thought. It wasn’t the self-pity he had been drowning in, it was something sharper. Anger. This was Uther’s fault.

“The people wish to see their prince is safe and well.”

“Am I?”

“It seems those sorcerers addled your brain more than I feared.” Uther turned as if he was about to leave.

“You know full well they haven’t done anything to me.” Arthur’s voice was quiet yet filled with defiance. His father remained where he was. “We both know you were given the chance to get me back weeks ago. And we both know that it was your hate that meant the people even saw me weakened.”

“If anyone else spoke to me like that, I would have them imprisoned for treason,” Uther said. “As you are still recovering, I’ll warn you now, boy, that if you ever-,”

“If I what?” Arthur spat. “If I try and do what is best for our people, _all_ of them, regardless of what situation they were born into, you would have me punished?”

“Magic is evil!”

“So is hatred, Father!” Arthur felt his anger flaring, helping him to stand up straight and stare the king in the eye. “You did this and we both know it.”

Arthur gasped as his father’s fist sunk into his stomach and he fell to his knees.

“You’re not too old for me to discipline,” the king said quietly. The guards backed off and Arthur sensed their discomfort. Arthur looked up, just in time to receive a stinging slap across his face.

He didn’t know how long it went on for. Days of sitting around doing nothing had dulled his senses and the wine had slowed his response. He let it happen, knowing he deserved this. If he had spoken out as soon as he returned, the people might have rallied behind him.

It was only now he realised that nursing his broken heart had lost him the chance to start building support for magic-users. He deserved what was coming.

But then he thought of Merlin and what the warlock would say about how his father was treating him. Arthur gritted his teeth and the next time his father’s fist swung, he caught it in an open palm. Instantly, the guards were back on him, pulling him to his feet but holding his arms loosely. It was more than their lives were worth to let harm come to the king, even if it was at the hands of his own son.

“Good,” Uther said, clearly seeing the spark back in Arthur’s eyes. “Eat something, then report to the training fields this afternoon. You’re only a victim as long as you see yourself that way, Arthur.”

He turned and left without another word, as if it had always been his intention to rile his son up until Arthur stopped feeling sorry for himself. The guards also left and Arthur could only stare after them.

 Did his father know him better than he thought?

Arthur shook off the thought and picked at some of the left-over food. He didn’t have much of an appetite and his stomach hurt thanks for the blows, but he knew, in a way, his father was right. He needed to train, needed to be stronger so this situation never repeated itself. And for that to happen, he needed sustenance.

Guards followed him to the training fields, but Arthur ignored them. He knew they would be reporting back to his father and Arthur decided to give them something to report. He trained with every weapon until his limbs shook, sweat dripped off him and the weapons master forbade him for picking anything else up in case he harmed either himself or others in his exhaustion.

Arthur had to grit his teeth to get back to his chambers, but he felt better. He hadn’t realised how much frustration, pain and helplessness had been hidden below him feeling sorry for himself and the physical release had brought those emotions to the surface and dealt with them. He knew what Gaius would say; being held a prisoner for so long would have taken its toll and his frustration was understandable.

But it wasn’t what had happened to him that was giving him the problems. It was the Druids. The way they lived, the constant fear and their extreme measures just to survive. It infuriated Arthur that these were technically his people and there was nothing he could do about it.

Arthur did a double-take when he reached his chambers. The servants must have moved in as soon as Arthur had left. His dirty clothes had been removed, the empty plates and jugs cleared away. The fireplace had been swept, his bed remade and a steaming bath was waiting for him. There was also a pot keeping warm over the fire and Arthur recognised the smell. It was a simple stew, but he knew the nourishment that came from it. The wine had been replaced by water and the prince wondered who would realise how much his attitude had changed in that day.

A faint waft of lavender filled the room as he moved towards the bath. Arthur grinned as he stripped off and eased his aching body into the still-hot water. Gwen, no doubt, which meant Morgana had heard about his run-in with Uther. He would thank the king’s ward when he had the chance.

But for now, Arthur relaxed into the water and thought long and hard. His father would have him believe that he was powerless to change things while he was a prince. In a way, it was true. Arthur couldn’t change any rules or laws, he couldn’t pardon people or refuse orders from the king.

What he could do, however, was start making agreements with the Druids for how things would change when he did become king. He could start letting a few more sorcerers slip his grasp unless they were guilty of hurting others. He could make his mark and if he did it properly, the king would never find out.

By the time he got out of the bath and dressed comfortably, but properly, Arthur felt like a totally different man compared to the prince who had struggled to get out of bed that morning. His father’s violence might have been the catalyst for his change of heart, but Arthur couldn’t help feeling that Merlin would be proud of him as he sat down to eat the stew - his first decent meal in days.

If, of course, the warlock was alive.

MMM

The world was an inferno.

It burnt through every fibre of his being, deep pain radiating from his very soul. In his less lucid moments, Merlin was convinced that Uther had taken him back and even now, he was burning alive, watched and mocked by everyone in Camelot.

During the rare moments when he was aware of his surroundings, he knew it was a fever ravishing his body and mind. He didn’t know how long he shook for, how many days he thrashed and screamed as he burnt from the inside out. Long periods of time seemed to disappear and Merlin knew he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He seemed to spend longer oblivious than he did alert and he didn’t care. He didn’t hurt when he couldn’t feel anything.

“You have to fight it, Merlin,” a voice said. Nimueh, but he couldn’t be sure. Cool hands touched his face and Merlin moaned. It turned to a cry as the hand disappeared, then a whimper as a cold cloth was placed across his forehead and one over his neck. “You’re stronger than this. Do not let Uther win.”

Uther. The dungeon. The brand. The whip. The beating. Uther…

His thoughts dragged him in circles until Merlin was crying in fear, unable to control himself. A bottle was placed against his lips and he swallowed greedily, only to nearly choke when the bitter taste of a potion coated his tongue. Whatever it was worked though. As soon as he had swallowed, darkness beckoned him back and Merlin fell willingly.

Something was different when he next awoke.

The fact he had a lucid thought in the first place told Merlin that much, but it didn’t take him long to realise although his temperature was beyond his control, he didn’t feel as if he was being consumed as he had before. A soft moan escaped his lips as he tried to shift position and he could feel the blankets draped over his body.

“Merlin?”

He knew for sure it was Freya this time. Merlin forced his eyes open, wincing in the bright sunlight and having to rapidly blink as he focused on his friend’s face. He was breathing heavily with the effort by the time he was convinced there was only one Freya smiling down at him. But there was genuine relief in her eyes and Freya rested the back of her fingers against his cheek.

“Welcome back,” she said. Merlin managed a smile, but that was it. He was weak, far too weak to be able to stay awake and by the time Freya returned with Nimueh, Merlin had fallen back to sleep.

It was only for a few hours this time as the sun was still bright when he awoke again. This time, Nimueh was waiting for him and she nodded in approval when his vision focused on her.

“I wasn’t sure you would pull through,” she said. Merlin didn’t respond, but instead attempted to sit up. He pressed his weight down and then promptly fell back with a cry as a fiery pain erupted from his shoulder.

“Easy,” Nimueh said, “breathe through it, boy.”

Merlin followed her advice, but it was easier said than done. By the time he was aware of his surroundings again, Nimueh had propped the pillows up and helped him sit back.

“This might hurt,” she warned but Merlin only sucked in a sharp breath and shifted to a more comfortable position as his back protested being leant on. He cradled his arm, realising that although a bandage was tied around his torso, the burn was being left open to the air. As Merlin studied it, he realised it was further along in the healing process than he would have thought.

“How long?” He muttered, his voice little more than a dry croak. Nimueh fetched him some water and helped him to drink before she answered.

“Six days,” she said, her voice grave. “You wouldn’t have lasted much longer, your strength was almost spent.”

Six days! Merlin couldn’t believe it. Time had blurred into one and he couldn’t define exact days since he had first been caught in Camelot. At least entering the castle had ultimately saved Arthur’s life.

Arthur!

“Where is he?” Merlin muttered, tired eyes taking in the tent. “Where’s Arthur?”

“In Camelot,” Nimueh said with a frown. “We traded you, don’t you remember?”

As Nimueh stared at her, the memory of that event came back. Uther’s sneering face, his threats, his men hidden in the forest…And the way he had drugged his son as his knights rushed to attack.

“It was a trap! He’s coming after us!”

“Relax.” Nimueh put a hand on his good shoulder, preventing Merlin from attempting to rise. “He’s already tried. There was a fight at the lake. We took heavy loses. Merlin, I’m sorry. Mordred took an arrow. He didn’t make it.”

Merlin sat back, ignoring the stings of pain. He had long ago stopped feeling anything but annoyance towards Mordred because of the way he treated Arthur, but he had never wished the man dead.

“And Arthur?”

“Uther removed him before we had the chance to do anything.”

“He drugged him,” Merlin muttered. “I saw him. He knocked his own son out just to inspire the men to attack.”

“The actions of a desperate man,” Nimueh said. She stood. “I should leave you to get some rest. You have a long way to go before you’re back to strength.”

Merlin nodded, then automatically tried to swing his legs out of bed.

“Merlin, what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he took a deep breath and shifted his weight. Immediately, he could feel his knees buckle and his head swim. He felt Nimueh’s magic keep him upright, but rather than using it as an aid to get back into bed, he attempted to take a step.

“Merlin!”

“I have to get to Arthur,” he muttered, sweat beading his forehead. “He needs me.”

“You can’t stand.”

“It doesn’t matter. He needs me.”

Nimueh withdrew her magic and Merlin collapsed. While he was aware she had softened his fall, he still glared up at her.

“How are you going to get to him like that?” Nimueh said sternly. “You’ll be handing yourself back to Uther on a silver platter and this time, he will finish the job.”

Merlin flinched violently, her words transporting his mind back to the dungeon and the torture he had undergone. As he remembered the feeling of the cuffs cutting into his wrists, Merlin lunged for his magic. Snapping his fingers to light a spark, he stared at his hand. Nothing happened.

“No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “It can’t be gone. Gaius said it would come back!”

“What will?”

“My magic,” Merlin whispered, staring up at his mistress with tear-filled eyes. “Uther used runed cuffs on me.”

“Oh Merlin.” Nimueh sounded genuinely saddened for him and she sat down next to him, wrapped an arm around him in a way she had never done before. “Those sort of cuffs have no power once they are off. Your magic is there, but you are weak. It’s shielding you by stopping you using it before you’re ready.”

“But I have to get to Arthur,” Merlin muttered, leaning against her and feeling his strength drain away. He was struggling to stay awake again. “Uther won’t ever let him out of the castle again.”

“He will. Arthur is still the prince, he has duties. The men won’t let Arthur remain hidden away when he is supposed to be leading them and Uther knows this.”

“He won’t let him out,” Merlin whispered, not truly comprehending what Nimueh was telling him. All he knew was he wouldn’t see Arthur again. Uther would make sure of it. He would never let them have their chance at love.

He didn’t know what thought caused the tears to start to fall. He didn’t even know if they were for Arthur and their lost future together. But as the events of the last few weeks caught up on him, Merlin had had enough of being brave, of putting on a front and pretending that he didn’t feel pain. Despite Nimueh being the one to teach him that he always had to be strong, she was the only one Merlin knew was strong enough to handle his emotions.

If his magic was there, if it was truly part of him, then Merlin knew it was not going to remain dormant as he released the pain, fear and grief that had been haunting him for too long.

Somehow, it didn’t surprise him when, as his sobs became harder, an almighty gust of power shot from his body, causing a gale to howl through the camp, the skies to turn dark and thunder rumble ominously. But for once, Nimueh didn’t caution control. She clearly knew how much he needed this release.


	22. Chapter 22

Arthur trained like he had never trained before over the next month. He ran before dawn, then used the morning to complete paperwork so he could spend the afternoon battering his men. While the knights themselves improved under this constant supervision, it was nothing compared to the prince himself. Arthur grew stronger, faster and fitter than ever, gaining muscle rather than weight. His bruises and marks healed and there was a steel glint in his eye that no one dared cross.

It wasn’t just the men who benefitted from Arthur’s new focus to his duty. While he never gained the cruelness or unfair nature of his father, trouble-makers were harshly dealt with. That didn’t mean he distanced himself from the people though, instead holding an open court in a tavern once a week so his father never found out. No one needed to steal as if they were struggling financially; they could tell the prince, who would assess their situation and help if he could. Petty crime dropped and the people’s love for the prince grew.

The kingdom thrived and Uther, while he was aware of the changes in his son, didn’t realise how far Arthur had gone. Not only was it to buy the people’s loyalty to ensure they would support him when he became king – Arthur knew the people had to be behind him if he wanted to lift the ban on magic – but also because he genuinely wanted to help. He had meant what he had said to Merlin; he didn’t want a single one of his subjects to live in fear or suffer because they were afraid of coming to Arthur.

He fell exhausted into bed every night, ignoring Gaius’ cautioning words that he was overdoing it and that he wouldn’t be able to keep it up. But Arthur had to. It was the only way he could stave off the dreams. The nightmares, in fact, of not knowing whether Merlin was alive or dead and hearing the warlock screaming with the torture that his own father had subjected his lover to.

Once a month had passed though, Leon knocked on his door one morning.

“There is a patrol riding out, Sire,” he said. Arthur looked up from his paperwork, although his diligence meant there was very little for him to do.

“And?” Part of the reason why Arthur had been training so hard was because his father hadn’t let him leave the castle. He insisted it was for Arthur’s own protection, but the knights were beginning to argue the case. Arthur was their leader and they wouldn’t follow a man who stayed hidden in his rooms like a child. Arthur knew they didn’t think that of him - but his father couldn’t risk the men rebelling.

“And he’s agreed.”

Arthur was out of his seat before Leon finished, a grin splitting over his face. The knights’ persistence had won out! He was finally allowed to ride out again!

“The stable-boy is saddling your horse. We’re meeting in an hour.”

Arthur nodded distractedly, finding his gear. Leon stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“It’s good to have you back, Sire,” he murmured softly. Arthur returned the grasp and nodded at his friend, not sure of the right thing to say. Leon left to let Arthur get ready.

They rode long and hard and Arthur was aware that they were allowing him his freedom more than they were actually patrolling. He took the gesture as it was intended; in friendship and respect and made sure that this time, he didn’t leave his men behind as he rode deeper into the forest. But there were no ambushes, just the sound of the birds calling their alarm at the approaching knights.

Arthur didn’t realise he had been aware of where the Druid camp was. He had initially approached it from the other direction and the concealment charms kept him oblivious to how close it was to Camelot until Nimueh had led him back home. Every knight knew the dangerous part of the forest where Arthur had received his bite and were warned to stay away. Arthur would be reinforcing those warnings now he knew first-hand what manner of creatures lurked in the darkness.

But before he knew it, someone called a warning as to their location and Arthur stopped. He slid from the saddle and stared, realising exactly where he had unintentionally led his men.

Handing his reins to Leon, he approached on foot. There was no magic in the air as he drew closer though and Arthur stopped. He could see where tents had been pitched and fires burnt. There was even a scrap of cloth moving in the breeze. But there was no concealment, no shield. There was no one here. The Druids had moved on.

“Sire?” Arthur didn’t turn to see who was addressing him, aware the men were dismounting. “What is this place, a bandit’s camp?”

“Something like that,” Arthur said distractedly. Although he knew his men were loyal, he wasn’t sure how they would feel about him knowing he had led them straight to the place where he had been held prisoner.

“Arthur?” Leon was by his shoulder before Arthur could take a step. Arthur glanced at him, then dropped his gaze. Leon knew. He knew precisely where they were. He put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“I checked by the lake after the battle,” he murmured in an undertone. “He wasn’t there.”

“That doesn’t mean he is still alive,” Arthur hissed. He knew now his heart had led him here, wanting to see Merlin one last time and put his mind at ease over the man’s condition. But there was nothing here for him and Arthur felt worse than ever.

He unsheathed his sword and drove it into the ground, convinced by the chirping birds there was no danger. He moved as if in a dream through the remains of the camp, stopping where he knew Merlin’s tent had been pitched. How many times had they laid together under the canvas, talking of their dreams and secretly daring to hope the other would witness it coming true?

The men followed his lead, although they didn’t know what they were looking for. Arthur stood in the middle of the deserted settlement, staring around him. He knew if even a few more days passed, nature would have reclaimed the forest so effectively that even he would have ridden through and not realised where he was.

“Arthur!”

Arthur turned, blinking out of his stupor as he moved across to where Leon was standing. For a moment, Arthur didn’t see what had caught the man’s eye. He was standing where Nimueh’s tent had been, staring at the ground. Arthur followed his gaze and saw nothing but a rock. Then he stared again, a smile unfurling on his lips. Bending down, he brushed some dirt of the rock.

_When the moon was full, destiny made us part. So when the moon is new, go back to the start._

Nothing other than magic could have made an inscription so precise. Arthur read it again, committing it to memory before glancing at the sky. Only the sun met his searching gaze.

“Three days’ time,” Leon said softly, following his gaze. “Is it him?”

Arthur turned back to the rock and gave a gasp. Before his eyes, the inscription faded away and he was left holding nothing more than an ordinary rock. He looked up at Leon and nodded, smiling.

“It’s him. No one else could use magic like this.”

“Arthur-,”

“I know.” Arthur stood, knowing his knight was going to warn him. “It could be a trap. But I don’t care. I have to go.”

“But go where?”

“Leon, you know I trust you. But my father can’t find out about this. It’s better that you don’t know, then at least he can’t blame you. Come on, let’s get this sorry bunch moving, we still have a patrol, after all.”

Leon strode off, yelling orders while Arthur stared at the sun. Three days. Two in which to convince his father to let him ride out alone, then one day to reach the inn where he had first met Merlin.  Arthur turned, marching through the camp to return to his horse. Despite facing many challenges over the last few months, he knew this was one he would not fail.

“Mount up,” he yelled. “I want the western section cleared by early afternoon so we can be back in Camelot by nightfall.”

The knights burst into action, leaping back onto their horses. Arthur saw more than one shudder and knew that a deserted camp was always enough to make a man shiver. There was a sense of foreboding around a place like this. But it wasn’t dread that filled Arthur’s heart as he rode away. Not this time.

It was hope. Merlin was alive and Arthur’s prayer had been granted; he was going to see the man one last time, regardless of his father. As he led the patrol deeper into the forest, Arthur started planning ways of slipping from the castle if the king didn’t agree to the expedition. Nothing was going to keep him from Merlin.

MMM

Merlin sat motionless by the window. Only his drumming fingers gave away his impatience. He had felt the spell activate and knew it meant Arthur had received his message. Nimueh had told him it as foolhardy and dangerous to leave such a visible sign behind, but Merlin had to see the prince one last time. The spell triggered when Arthur had seen his inscription, alerting Merlin to the fact he had until the new moon to get to the tavern.

Luckily, they hadn’t been far and he had a few days warning. He still had to travel slow. His wounds had all but healed, but there was a stiffness to his limbs that hadn’t been there before his imprisonment. It didn’t take much for the scars to crack open and hard riding left him practically immobile for some time afterwards. Nimueh had sworn things would get easier as time passed, but Merlin felt like a young man trapped in an old man’s body.

He had taken the same room as before. If Arthur understood his message, he would know where to look. He hadn’t noticed the first time around, but there was a window overlooking the stables. Merlin couldn’t go and find Arthur, not this close to the border. He knew what he was asking Arthur to risk by crossing the boundary again, but knew it would be worth it. He had to know Uther hadn’t hurt Arthur and that his prince was alive and well. He wondered if Arthur had been concerned about Merlin’s own survival given the state of him when they had last been face to face.

Merlin hadn’t taken his eyes off the path approaching the stables since he had arrived.  What if Arthur had read the message and not understood? What if he had read it and decided not to come? Merlin wasn’t sure what was worse.

The sound of a horse approaching at speed made him sit up straighter. A hooded figure galloped into sight, not pulling on the reins until he was almost _in_ the stables. The green cloak was familiar but Merlin didn’t dare hope too much, not only he heard a familiar step on the stairs and the door creak as it was pushed open.

He turned, not saying a word as Arthur slipped his cloak off. Slowly, Merlin got to his feet, swallowing past the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. He took a step towards the prince, who stared at him as if looking at a ghost.

Merlin’s gaze roamed Arthur’s body and he grinned before he could stop himself. The last time he saw Arthur, the prince had been unconscious thanks to his own father. But now… Now there was no denying Arthur had been working hard and he looked good. Merlin moved towards him, running his fingers over Arthur’s arm.

“You’ve trained,” he muttered. Arthur stared at him, lifting an eyebrow before he finally snorted in amusement.

“That’s the only thing you can think of saying to me?”

“I don’t think I’m thinking at all,” Merlin muttered, feeling as if he was in a daze, or a dream. “Am I dreaming?”

Arthur’s fingers were suddenly curling around his neck, drawing Merlin closer and kissing him deeply. He might have grown in their time apart, but his kiss hadn’t changed and Merlin let out a sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh as he melted into Arthur’s embrace.

“Does this feel like a dream?”

“Stop talking,” Merlin muttered, tracing Arthur’s lower lip with a finger. “Stop talking and kiss me.”

Arthur did more than that and Merlin witnessed first-hand how the man’s stamina had improved and how his body had hardened over the last few months. But Arthur still remained gentle and Merlin had a sleepy smile on his face by the time they were done. He was stretched out on the bed, completely naked and lying on his stomach. Arthur was trailing soft kisses along the scars on his back.

“These are my fault,” he murmured. Merlin looked around and shook his head.

“Arthur-,”

“I trusted Mordred and it almost got you killed.”

“Why did you trust him?”

“I thought he wanted me gone so badly that he would send me back to Camelot, knowing I would never be able to find you again once I was past the shield,” Arthur admitted. Merlin rolled over and cupped his face but Arthur’s gaze lowered. “Then when I woke up, it was to the news that you had been captured. When I saw you in the town, the day they arranged the exchange…”

He trailed off and Merlin could sense the frustration Arthur still carried with him. He exerted a little pressure, forcing Arthur to look at him.

“You did all you could,” he said. “I would have rather died knowing you lived than cower in the camp watching you die and wondering if I could save you.”

“And what about me?” Arthur ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m supposed to be the prince and I had no way of releasing a prisoner from my own dungeons.”

“You _are_ a prince,” Merlin insisted. “And from what I’ve been hearing, a damn good one.”

Arthur coloured a touch and Merlin knew the rumours were right; Arthur was fixing his kingdom from the inside out under his father’s very nose. He didn’t know if Arthur’s relationship with Uther had changed, but it was clear Arthur was taking control, regardless of the king’s wishes.

Arthur’s fingers trailed across his shoulder blades until they reached the burn. He sighed and looked sad again, so Merlin kissed him and flipped them, determined that if this was to be their last meeting, it was going to be a memorable one. It helped, of course, that he was even more attracted to Arthur now he had spent a month training consistently and was letting the people see the good man he truly was.

When they finished, it was Arthur who was almost asleep this time. Merlin propped himself up on an elbow and distracted himself with gently running his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

“I have to be gone by dawn,” the prince murmured but Merlin pressed a finger to his lips.

“Don’t talk of that now. Don’t think of it. We have all night.”

“We have to think of it,” Arthur protested, sitting up. He lent back against the wall and pulled Merlin around until he was resting between his legs. Merlin relaxed back contently. “You know how dangerous this is.”

“I know,” Merlin said, feeling sadness well up inside him. This was borrowed time and they both knew it. He folded his hand over Arthur’s, gripping on. “I had to see you again though. I had to know…”

Arthur kissed the nape of his neck. “I know. I was the same. I had to know you were alive. But doing this… It’s only going to get one of us killed.”

“We’re moving on, anyway,” Merlin said. “Travelling through to Estesir. It won’t be as dangerous there for us, people can actually have lives, families even.”

“And Nimueh is alright with that?”

“I think she has realised she might have it wrong.” Merlin said, twisting and kissing Arthur’s nose. “You persuaded her of that.”

“I think nearly losing you did more than I could,” the prince said. “She really cares for you.”

“I know.” Merlin turned back, unable to hold the twisted position. He played absently with Arthur’s fingers. “If you asked me to stay, I would though.”

“I can’t.” Arthur’s voice was soft but sad and Merlin understood instantly how he felt. “I couldn’t ask you to live like that, in that much danger.”

A warlock of Merlin’s power would never go unnoticed. He couldn’t be in Camelot’s borders, too many of the knights had seen him. And Arthur couldn’t keep crossing without potentially bringing war to the people he was trying so hard to save. Merlin could feel his love trembling below him and knew what it was costing Arthur to again put his duty first.

Merlin wondered what would happen if he asked Arthur to accompany them. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t put Arthur in that situation.

“It’s alright,” Merlin said. He turned around completely, kneeling between Arthur’s outstretched legs. “You’ll see me again.”

“When?” Arthur said, his voice choked. Merlin gently brushed a falling tear away. A sense of calm entered his soul and heart and he knew the next words he said were more than a promise.

“The day you are crowned king,” he said quietly, “I will return to your side.”

He wasn’t just saying it, he meant it. Being by Arthur’s side was the only thing that felt right to him, even if he had to wait a few years for that to happen.

“You’d wait for me?”

“You really need to ask?” Merlin lent forward, kissing him sweetly. “Maybe you are still a prat then.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long - real life has got in the way and my muse has run off!

“You have been found guilty of using magic and witchcraft and as such, will be sentenced to death.”

“No!”

Arthur shut his eyes, wishing he could close his ears against the woman’s scream, his stomach churning. The accused was a child, a girl barely six summers old. Despite the king’s orders, the guards hadn’t been able to shackle her; she was too tiny. Her mother was fighting the guards tooth and nail and Arthur knew that before they were taken from court, the woman would condemn herself as well.

And he just stood there.

Everything he had been fighting for, all the subtle changes he had been making behind his father’s back, and all he could do was stand there and watch an innocent child be sentenced to death because she had chosen to play in the wrong place.

Opening his eyes, Arthur saw Morgana glaring at him. There were tears in her own eyes but she didn’t say anything. They both knew that Uther had stopped listening to her long ago. But Arthur… Arthur knew the king had no choice but to listen to his Crown Prince, especially if Arthur spoke up in front of the entire court. He couldn’t change the sentence, but he could reassure the people he was on their side. Arthur hated that he was thinking about the people as a collective mass rather than this terrified little girl, but it gave him the courage to step forward.

“You can’t do this, Father. She is innocent of any crime.”

“She used magic.”

“A power she cannot control and has no choice over! She can’t help how she was born!” Before Merlin, Arthur hadn’t known that was possible. He thought every sorcerer chose magic, regardless of their reasons.

Now he knew differently.

“She is evil.”

“She is a child!” Arthur stepped forward, lowering his voice. “I am your prince because I am your son, whether you wish it so or not. Neither of us can help that I was born into my position. She is the same, she didn’t choose this!”

“You would defy me? In front of the court?”

Arthur glanced at Morgana, who nodded softly. She would stand by him, whatever happened next. He then looked to Leon. The knight had his hand on the hilt of his sword, but he too nodded at Arthur. The knights were with him.

“Yes. This is wrong.”

“Out!” Uther screamed, gesturing for everyone to clear the court. The mother and child were pulled out, but Arthur saw Leon hurrying after them and knew his knight would do what Arthur himself could not; they would be given money and provisions to get out of Camelot and start elsewhere.

It was what they had been doing for the last two years, after all.

Uther stood, slowly walking down the steps until he was directly in front of his son. Arthur didn’t say anything, he didn’t even gasp when his father backhanded him sharply. Instead, he just regained his balance and stared at the king.

“The people live in terror of your reign, Sire,” Arthur said quietly. “It has to end.”

“Your words are treason!”

“Only if you take it as that rather than advice, Father. You taught me to listen to what the people want. When did you forget your own advice?”

This time, Uther’s punch drove him to his knees. Arthur hadn’t realised a couple of guards had remained behind until his arms were seized.

“Lock him up,” Uther snarled. “You can stay in the dungeons until you come to your senses.”

The guards hauled him up and Uther grabbed his chin. Arthur looked his father in the eye, not flinching.

“Imprisonment seems to be where you think the most.” There was an ugly sneer on Uther’s face, his words dripping with contempt.

“Father-,”

“Take him away!”

Arthur didn’t struggle as the guards led him from the throne room towards the dungeons. As soon as the doors were shut, they let go of his arms.

“We’re sorry, Sire,” one murmured. Arthur smiled at him.

“You are doing your duty and carrying out your king’s will. There is nothing to apologise for.”

No one spoke again until Arthur had been shown into a cell and the door locked behind him. This wasn’t the first time in the last few years Uther had resorted to such drastic measures. Arthur knew this would be different though. He had openly challenged the man in front of witnesses. Uther would know the guards and the knights stood behind Arthur and the prince didn’t believe his father was so gone in his madness not to realise his people hated him.

Arthur knew his words could be a catalyst. It made his head spin thinking about it.

Before Merlin, he had been the perfect soldier.

After Merlin, his actions had been secret. The world still saw him as an obedient heir.

Now, however, he had just stepped out from the king’s shadow and Arthur felt an old panic attack rising when he thought about whether he was ready for that or not.

By the time he had calmed himself down, Leon appeared with lunch. He didn’t say anything as he unlocked the door and brought in Arthur’s food. He nodded to his prince’s questioning look though and Arthur breathed easier. It had been worth it; the girl had escaped. He didn’t have much of an appetite but he forced himself to eat.

“Leon?” His knight was just locking the door behind him when Arthur called him back.

“My Lord?”

“Give the boys hell from me.”

Leon nodded and smiled, disappearing with a swish of his cloak. Arthur lent back against the wall, then sunk down it until his knees were pressed against his chest. He curled his arms across the top and rested his chin on them.

Was he ready to be king if that was what the people wanted? Deep down, he knew he was. He would make mistakes, but his intentions were pure and he would learn. He never dreamt it would come at the cost of his father though, not like this.

The confrontation and almost panic attack took more out of Arthur than he realised. Exhaustion and boredom meant he fell asleep and it was early evening before he awoke.

Instantly, Arthur knew something was wrong. Voices were shouting, calls of alarm sounding throughout the castle. But the warning bell wasn’t tolling. These weren’t shouts for an enemy approaching but something occurring in the castle itself.

Arthur slowly stood up, his heart pounding hard. He crossed to the door, one hand gripping the bars as he struggled to see out. Torches flashed across his vision, accompanied by pounding feet as messengers ran back and forth.

By the time Gaius slowly approached the door, Arthur knew.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” His voice was toneless but his hands shook, even where they were wrapped around the metal grating. Gaius bowed his head.

“Long live the king.”

He held out his hand and a guard quickly passed him the keys. Gaius unlocked the cell and the guard stepped back. The physician put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“His heart gave out,” he said quietly. “All these years of strain and paranoia have taken their toll.”

“No,” Arthur said. His voice was firm albeit it quiet. “I did this.”

“Arthur…”

“I betrayed him in front of the kingdom. I’m responsible.”

“You saved her life. Just like you saved Merlin’s. Just like you have been saving for people for years.”

Arthur took a deep breath, letting Gaius’ words wash over him. He wasn’t saddened by his father’s death. He hadn’t had any affection for the man since he had been kidnapped. Uther had betrayed him first, then tortured his lover out of hate. Arthur felt nothing knowing the man was gone.

His hands shook for an entirely different reason.

He was king.

Everything he had done in secret, everything he had been panicking about just a few hours ago was now true. He swallowed hard and Gaius’ hand tightened on his shoulder.

“You are not alone, my king,” the man said softly. “Your friends are by your side.”

Arthur nodded. His shoulders straightened and he lifted his head. Gaius nodded approvingly, just as he had always done when Arthur had pulled himself together after Uther’s beatings when he had been a boy. He didn’t need to fear the king’s wrath anymore.

Arthur walked from the dungeons with his head held high, Gaius following at the required distance. Guards dropped to his knees as he passed and Arthur nodded at them. He didn’t speak but led the way to his father’s chambers.

The man was laid out on his bed, still dressed for dinner.

“We shall give you your privacy,” Gaius said, motioning to the guards and serving staff hovering around.

“No,” Arthur said. He felt calm, looking down at his father. He would forever carry the guilt that his actions had been the trigger but Gaius was right. The man had lived with paranoia for too long. He had brought this upon himself. “I have nothing to say to him.”

Arthur turned and strode from the room. He did not want to waste time on the dead. He had a kingdom to rule, after all.

MMM

Merlin was late.

All the magic he possessed and he still hadn’t managed to get to Camelot on time. He knew he was late because the streets were empty and no one was in sight. They would all be up in the castle by now and Merlin knew there was no way he would be able to get in. If the guards didn’t recognise him and arrest him, then the sheer number of people would prevent him from getting to Arthur.

It wasn’t his fault. The messenger had been so exhausted by the time he had found the camp that Freya had forbidden anyone to talk to him until the following morning. By then, rumours of Uther’s death were already spreading. Merlin was packed and ready to leave when Freya told him he could see their guest.

Merlin didn’t hesitate. He “borrowed” their fastest horse and had cantered from the camp without a backward glance. His previous discussions with Nimueh meant he knew she would follow with an official treaty for the new King of Camelot. All Merlin wanted was to make good on his promise to return to Arthur’s side.

And he was late.

He dismounted, leaving the horse in the courtyard. He knew it wouldn’t wander, animals instinctively trusted him and he used his magic to press the need to _stay here._ Running up the stone steps, Merlin paused when he realised he didn’t know where to go. He had never seen the castle in daylight.

He didn’t have to think for long. A blast of trumpets sent him running down one corridor, following the noise. The sound of people cheering led him through the next few turnings and Merlin smiled. He knew what those cheers meant. Camelot had a new king, and this time, he was one who would be there for the people rather than turn against them.

Thinking of Arthur made Merlin’s heart beat faster. What if he had changed in the last few years? What if he no longer wanted Merlin?

Merlin shook off the thought. He had promised. It was Arthur’s choice what happened next but for now, Merlin just had to reach him.

The large doors to what Merlin could only assume was the throne room were guarded by two guards. Merlin slowed to a walk.

“Bit late, I’m afraid, son,” one said. Merlin grinned again. In Uther’s time, he would have been challenged, not welcomed, even if his magic wasn’t known. He relaxed, knowing no one would forcibly restrain him from reaching Arthur.

“I’m an old friend of Ar- of the king. Can I just slip in?”

The two men looked at each other and the elder nodded. They opened the door a crack and Merlin slipped in.

He meant to hide in the crowds and watch without distracting Arthur. But the sight of his new king took his breath away. Arthur looked strong and powerful, standing in front of these people with nothing but confidence. The crown gleamed boldly on his head. He was every inch the king and Merlin froze, unable to move. He had thought the man was gorgeous as a captive prince. But this…

This was who Arthur was born to be and Merlin froze, even though it left him standing in the middle of the entrance, visible to everyone.

Arthur was in the middle of his first speech as king.

“-suffered at the hands of hatred. But no more! From this day forth, the ban on magic has been repelled.”

There were shocked gasps. Merlin monitored the crowd quickly. All of the commoners were nodding and smiling, as were most of the nobles. Arthur gave his people time to adjust before he continued.

Merlin knew he wasn’t the only one to see the movement; all of the knights reached for their swords. But all Merlin saw was that none of them would get to Arthur fast enough before the disgruntled noble plunged his sword into his new king. The man’s expression was fury and outrage and Merlin knew he was loyal to Uther and his ideals, even now.

The man lunged…and froze, bewildered, at the lily he was holding in his hands. Merlin grinned and let the magic fade. Arthur didn’t seem fazed by the attempt on his life. Instead, he looked from his would-be attacker, his gaze searching the hall anxiously. The people closest to Merlin began backing away, feeling his power even if they weren’t conscious of it.

It cleared a gap for the new king to see his saviour.

Arthur stared at him down the length of the hall. He looked gobsmacked. Emotions shot over his face so fast that Merlin didn’t have the chance to establish what Arthur was thinking. He knew if he couldn’t, no one could. Slowly, Arthur stepped away from the throne, gaining speed as he travelled the length of the hall. Merlin watched him move, appreciating the strong man in front of him.

Then he dropped to his knees, his head bowed.

Arthur paused, only briefly, before continuing.

“My king,” Merlin murmured, sincerer than he had ever been in his life. Arthur took his chin in a gloved hand, tilting his head up. A smile threatened to curl his lips, but Arthur swallowed and remained dignified. He drew Merlin to his feet.

“Magic can be used to protect,” he announced loudly. “Those caught practicing will be judged on their _crimes_ , not their method of committing said act. Everyone will be judged equally from now on.”

The crowd erupted again and Merlin glanced at his king.

“You’re late,” Arthur muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“Got held up, more important things and all that,” Merlin replied. Then his composure cracked and a wide grin spread over his face even as tears lingered in his eyes. Arthur took his hand, leading him back up the aisle. Merlin looked at the ground, trying to ignore the stares he could feel. The last time this many people had looked at him, he had been bound on his knees.

He didn’t realise they had stopped until he almost walked into Arthur.

“Let the feast begin!” Arthur declared. He didn’t let go of Merlin’s hand, but instead pulled him through a secluded door. Merlin saw two knights step in front of it, covering their exit before it shut. It cut off the noise effectively and all Merlin could hear was his own heartbeat as he stared at Arthur.

“You came.”

“You doubted that I would?”

“No, I…” Arthur stepped forward. He pulled off his gloves and a finger traced Merlin’s face, as if he was reminding himself of the man’s features. “I was afraid that…”

“Hush,” Merlin said. Arthur was not the only one to grow in power and authority over the last few years and Merlin’s voice was strong. He reached up, his thumb tracing Arthur’s lower lip. “If you wish it, I will never leave your side again.”

“If I…If I wish it?” Arthur gave a strangled sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh. “I was going to make it official. I was going to make you Court Warlock.”

“Was?”

“You were late,” Arthur said with a shrug. “And interrupted my speech.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Merlin laughed, cupping Arthur’s face and brushing his thumbs across his cheeks. “I was too busy trying to stop you being stabbed.”

“With a flower? Honestly, _Mer_ lin.”

Shivers ran across Merlin’s body at hearing the way Arthur drawled his name. He knew, in that instant, that it didn’t matter how strong either of them had become over the last few years. Their feelings remained unchanged and now, they didn’t have to hide.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, just wanting to be able to say the man’s name.

“Yes?”

“I love you,” Merlin said. He closed the gap between them, brushing his lips against Arthur’s. Arthur’s arm snaked around his waist and yanked him closer, deepening the kiss. Merlin didn’t realise his hands had entangled themselves in Arthur’s hair until the edge of the crown bruised his fingers and made him curse.

“For God’s sake,” he muttered. His eyes flaring gold, he levitated the crown off Arthur’s head and onto a nearby table. Arthur laughed against him.

“Did you just steal my crown?”

“I’ve already taken your heart,” Merlin murmured, leaning into Arthur’s embrace. He rested his forehead on the man’s shoulder, letting Arthur hold him close. “Why not your crown as well?”

“You’re impossible,” Arthur muttered. They were silent for a moment, then the king spoke again. “It’s true though, you do have my heart. Stay here, Merlin. Stay with me.”

Merlin heard the vulnerability in Arthur’s voice and knew that he was the only one the king let hear it. He reached up, once again cupping Arthur’s face even as he stared deeply into the man’s eyes.

“Always.”


	24. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry again at how long it has taken me to get this final chapter up. But this is now another story finished and I really hope you've enjoyed it. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to support this story.
> 
> It might be a while before my next - my muse has vanished and I keep restarted everything! Until then, take care!

Arthur strode into his chamber, unbuckling his sword and throwing it on the table before glancing at the bed. He smirked. Merlin was precisely where he had left him a few hours ago.

But while his lover was still naked in bed, he was reading through reports. Arthur’s red covers contrasted with his pale skin from where it was draped across his lap just enough to conceal him from Arthur’s eager glance. He looked up as Arthur entered and instantly smiled.

“Good training?” He asked and Arthur nodded. He knew he didn’t need to answer verbally. Merlin could judge his mood from just how he entered a room. That was the result of spending three years by Arthur’s side, two as his official consort. No one was surprised when Arthur had made the announcement and he was still convinced he heard someone mutter “finally”. Arthur knew he hadn’t done anything to disguise his feelings. He had upset the nobles enough with his attitude towards magic, they weren’t going to dictate who he was allowed to love.

“What are you looking at?” Arthur didn’t know where Merlin stored his reports; the warlock levitated them into reach whenever he required them and then vanished them by magic as well. Arthur pretended he wasn’t impressed each time Merlin used his powers, but even after three years, it still sent a thrill through his body. It wasn’t just because of the magic – though Arthur wondered how he had ever hated it, now he could see the beauty in magic.

It was the fact there was a warlock at the heart of Camelot comfortable enough to use his magic without thinking about it. His father would have been disgusted.

“The latest from both Nimueh and Freya,” Merlin said. He wriggled into a more comfortable position and Arthur pretended not to be disappointed when the covers didn’t move. Merlin looked up and caught him watching.

“You’re insatiable.”

“You’re gorgeous, so it’s all your fault.” Arthur took off his cloak and draped it over the chair. There was a chill to the air and he knew winter would be upon them quicker than they realised. He hated this part; people panicked they didn’t have enough supplies despite Arthur opening the castle every winter. In the depths of it though, with snow thick on the ground and a hush over the kingdom, it was the one time he truly felt at peace.

“You’re blaming me that you can’t control yourself? Thought you were supposed to be a king?”

“I am!” Arthur reached over and popped a grape in his mouth. “So, I’m ordering you to report on what they have to say.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. He had adapted to his position of authority better than Arthur would have guessed. But then he considered that Nimueh had been training Merlin for leadership for years. Either way, Arthur was glad to have a confident Court Warlock by his side who was sure in his decision. Magic had flourished since Arthur had become king and he knew the kingdom was finally reaping the benefits of that.

“Freya has started teaching young children who are born with the power. Those who chose it understand the responsibility they are taking on, but children don’t understand, nor do they realise the damage their magic could cause.”

Arthur knew this was a matter close to Merlin’s heart. He had spent his childhood struggling to conceal an ever-growing power, forbidden to talk about it or embrace his nature.

“You could start that here if you wanted,” Arthur said casually and Merlin’s face lit up.

“Really?”

“If it means that much to you, yes.”

Merlin flung himself out of the bed and Arthur didn’t even have time to appreciate the view before lips were being pressed to his. He smiled into it, pulling Merlin closer and running his hands over his bare skin.

“Help me with my armour,” he murmured into Merlin’s mouth, cupping his arse as he did so. Merlin pulled away, but only far enough to start on the buckles. Arthur held still, drinking in the sight in front of him. Merlin again caught him looking and this time, he blushed.

“Stop staring,” he muttered, gaze intently focused on the straps. Arthur cupped his cheek, his thumb brushing over Merlin’s cheek bone.

“I can’t help it,” he said softly.

“I could make you.”

“You could try.”

Merlin grinned at the challenge and his eyes flashed gold. Arthur was stripped of his armour in an instant. This had been a game between them for years now, the constant battle for dominance. Arthur knew neither of them meant anything serious about it, but neither of them wanted to back down. Merlin’s fingers quickly made short work of Arthur’s laces and he reached in, his warm hand making Arthur grunt.

“Maybe I should distract you.”

“I’m still your king.”

“Maybe I should distract you, _Sire_.”

Arthur didn’t have an answer as Merlin sunk to his knees and tugged Arthur’s breeches down. They rested just above his knees and Merlin’s hands steadied themselves on his thighs as he leant forward and took Arthur in his mouth. The king’s breathing instantly stuttered and he rested a hand on Merlin’s head, as much to control himself as anything else. Even after all of this time, the sex was still as fantastic as the first day he had begged Merlin to fuck him.

He quickly swelled to full hardness and his eyes fell shut as his hips thrusted on their own accord. Merlin matched his rhythm, swirling his tongue in a way that made Arthur gasp. He didn’t last long and Merlin straightened up, satisfied even as he wiped his mouth. Arthur tugged his breeches up, then pointedly looked down.

“Now who needs a hand?”

Merlin meekly nodded, his hands clenched as he tried to stop himself. Arthur took him in his arms, backing him up against the bed and kissing him deeply, determined to make Merlin squirm. Just as he had the man exactly where he wanted him, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Arthur called, his voice hoarse with desire. Merlin gave him a wild-eyed look, but by then it was too late, the door was already opening. Arthur swore that Merlin used magic to slow time down as he dived back into the bed and pulled the blankets over himself. His papers were sent flying and in true Merlin style, his momentum carried him too far.

Arthur stepped forward to greet Leon, ignoring the thud behind him as Merlin fell off the other side of the bed, following by a soft “ow”. Arthur knew he would pay for it later, but he grinned. Leon shook his head fondly.

“Hello, Merlin,” he called.

“Hi, Leon!”

Arthur rolled his eyes at his lover, despite Merlin not being able to see him.

“What can I do for you, Leon?”

“The delegation from Cendred’s kingdom have just passed the border, Sire.”

Arthur nodded, his mood replaced by a serious one. He had been working long and hard to secure this treaty. Cendred had been reluctant, to say the least, but once Merlin had demonstrated his powers and made it clear it wasn’t going to be that simple to assassinate Arthur, the other king had realised that a treaty might be in his best interests.

“Have all the knights gathered in the courtyard,” Arthur instructed. “It’s time we put on a show for our guest.”

Leon nodded and left. Arthur wondered if he would have time for a bath. He wanted to make a good impression, knowing that Cendred looked down on him because of his age and lack of experience. He suddenly shivered and knew Merlin’s magic had just brushed past him. He looked back at the bed in time to see Merlin appear, miraculously fully dressed. Then he turned towards the tub and sure enough, a steaming bath waited for him.

“You know me too well, sometimes,” he commented as he began to strip off his clothes. Merlin came to help him. Not every part of their relationship was about lust and Merlin’s hands were sure as he helped Arthur undress, wash and dress again in formal clothing. Arthur was glad that one of them were steady and sure, because he knew his hands were trembling and he would have never been able to do up his belt on his own.

Once he was dressed, Arthur took a deep breath. Merlin cupped his cheek softly but with just enough pressure to make Arthur look at him.

“You’re going to be brilliant,” he said sincerely. “I believe in you. Camelot believes in you.”

It was what Arthur needed to hear. His shoulders dropped, his chin lifted and he pulled Merlin closer so that he could kiss him. When he pulled away, Merlin flicked an invisible speck of dust from Arthur’s shoulder.

“And if he tries anything, I’ll turn him into a frog.”

Arthur had learnt over the years that when Merlin said something in that mild tone, he meant it with every fibre of his being. He laughed, sliding his fingers through Merlin’s. With his warlock by his side, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

MMM

Merlin rolled his head on the pillow to look at his sleeping lover. He was tempted to trace Arthur’s face, but he knew the king had been up late working and he was reluctant to disturb him. It was still early and he knew that Arthur would be surprised that Merlin was even awake. Since living in Camelot, Merlin discovered he liked sleeping late now that the sun didn’t cut straight through the fabric of his tent to wake him.

But today was different. Today was the one day that he was awake with the sun, troubled thoughts roaming his mind. It used to be the day that Nimueh drugged him to stop his power from going crazy, but since being with Arthur, Merlin had managed to control himself.

He slipped from the bed, grabbing Arthur’s cloak and covering his naked body with it. He moved to the window, staring out across Camelot as the sun touched the tips of the castle. He sighed heavily.

“What is it?” A sleepy voice murmured and Merlin glanced back at the bed. Arthur was barely awake and already Merlin could feel the concern radiating from him.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

Arthur tossed back the covers and stood up. Merlin turned back to the window. He had managed to hide himself away for the previous two years and had never told Arthur what this exact day meant to him. But Arthur was approaching him, an expression on his face that indicated he wasn’t going to leave Merlin alone until he knew. Merlin didn’t think his magic could handle that sort of pressure today.

Arthur’s arms encircled his waist and Merlin leant back with another sigh. His hand came up to play with the hairs at the back of Arthur’s neck.

“What is it?” the king repeated, kissing his neck softly. Merlin shook his head and Arthur remained quiet. Merlin allowed himself to be held, reminded that he was safe, loved and protected here. Arthur would never let anyone hurt him and Merlin wasn’t a frightened child any longer. He could defend himself.

“You’re trembling,” Arthur whispered. Merlin felt a couple of tears splash down his cheeks. Arthur stiffened slightly and Merlin knew he could see them in the reflection of the window. He didn’t move though and Merlin was grateful for that.

“It was today that… That…” He swallowed hard. He had never had to say it out loud before, everyone had already known. He took a deep breath. “It was on this day all those years ago that I was ambushed in the forest.”

He heard Arthur’s sharp intake of breath and knew the king had realised what he wasn’t saying. Today was the day, many years ago, that his mother had been killed trying to defend him. It was on this day that his world had been torn apart.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur murmured. “I know how hard that is.”

Merlin believed him. Arthur might not have been close to his father, but he had grieved him in his own way. Merlin knew that Arthur still grieved for the mother that he had never known as well. His king understood and all Merlin could do was nod and let Arthur hold him up.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the morning. Words were not needed. But Arthur was more attentive than normal, softly washing his back, his hands caressing and gentle while Merlin bathed and ensuring that the warlock’s favourites were present for breakfast. Arthur had to disappear after that; matters of state awaited him and Merlin had vowed to never get in the way of Arthur and his kingdom.

Merlin took himself back to bed. He didn’t sleep, but just gazed at the canopy and considered all that his life had become since that day. While he had always been plagued with doubt about who he was becoming when under Nimueh’s care, he knew that wasn’t the case now. He was doing something good with his magic, helping save people’s lives. It was because of him (partly) that magic was now allowed back in Camelot. Merlin was fully aware that if Arthur hadn’t fallen in love with him, Camelot would be a very different kingdom. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that his mother would be proud of him and he felt some of the crushing weight lift.

Arthur returned just before lunch and although he didn’t look surprised to see Merlin in bed, he didn’t let him stay there.

“Come on,” he said, pulling back the blankets. “I’ve got something to show you.”

“What?” No matter how much Merlin questioned and whined, Arthur wouldn’t tell him anything. Intrigue interrupted his guilt and grief and Merlin let himself be bundled up in a cloak and led outside. Arthur took him behind the castle to the gardens. But he didn’t stop there, instead weaving through them until he came to a locked gate. Merlin had seen it before but never paid it much attention.

Arthur pulled a key from his belt, unlocked the gate and gestured for Merlin to enter. The warlock did and found himself in a small enclosure. It was large enough to be spacious but small enough to be kept to the highest standard. In the centre stood a tall apple tree, proud and laden with fruit. Arthur moved forward and touched the tree, a loving smile on his face.

“When I was young, I was terrified of the crypts,” he said without looking at Merlin. “My father grieved my mother by drinking and killing any sorcerer he could find. I didn’t know what to do; I refused to see her tomb. Gaius had this area set aside and we planted this tree, together. It’s where I come every evening on my birthday, and whenever I feel like I needed her advice. I spent a lot of time here when I returned to Camelot.”

Merlin didn’t need to ask when, he knew Arthur was referring to his kidnapping, if it could be called that. Reluctant as he was, Merlin smiled, moving forward and resting a hand on Arthur’s back.

“That’s beautiful,” he said sincerely. Arthur blushed but turned, taking Merlin’s hand. Then he pressed something into his palm and closed his fingers around it. Merlin uncurled them again to see a seed, small and innocent, in his hand.

“There’s always room for another mother,” he whispered. Merlin stared at the seed in his hand, tears filming his vision. Arthur kissed him on the cheek, then left. Merlin knew he was giving the time and space to decide what to do.

But for Merlin, there was no decision. Through his tears, his eyes flooded gold and he breathed lightly about the seed. Instantly, a green shoot emerged and Merlin smiled at the fresh growth. He refused to use any more magic though and instead bent down, digging a hole and placed the seedling in it. He covered it up, moved to a large barrel he had noticed in the corner and drew enough water to help the plant grow.

Then he went to find his lover.

Arthur was waiting for him in the gardens, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Merlin knew him though; he knew that anything that touched upon emotions always had Arthur out of sorts. He walked straight up to the king, drew him close and kissed him, trying to pour everything he could into that kiss.

“Thank you,” he whispered, although the words barely touched upon what he wanted to say. Arthur smiled shyly and traced his cheek.

“I’ll have a key cut for you,” he said. Merlin didn’t mention that he could open the gate with magic. This was as important to Arthur, letting him into this area, as it was to Merlin. He slid his fingers through Arthur’s and smiled at him.

“Let’s go home,” he said simply. It was the first time he had referred to their chambers, to _Camelot_ as home but Arthur’s grin made it worth it and they set off towards the castle.

Merlin knew he was home though. His place was by Arthur’s side, there was no way he could deny it. And Camelot had as much of a hold on Arthur’s heart as Merlin did and he knew the king would never leave. If Arthur wouldn’t leave, then neither would Merlin. This was where he belonged.

As they left the gardens, he looked back over his shoulder. For the first time in years, he no longer felt as if he was carrying his mother’s death around with him. He could let it go, satisfied she would be pleased with his path in life and would indeed be proud of him.

With Arthur’s hand in his, Merlin couldn’t wish for anything more.


End file.
